


Then the Butterfly Stamped

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Family, Friendship, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, Sex, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2005-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 70,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5921983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Sirius are called out of semi-retirement to handle a case for the Order that may be just too close to home</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01 - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

Marauders' era - early 5th year.

"...And she said...she said..." Remus Lupin drew himself up to his full height and tried to put on his best Professor McGonagall impersonation, a feat made all the more difficult due to his huge gasps of choking laughter. "...Yes, Mr. Trevellyan, I know what it is...I've s-seen quite a few in my time but...but...never one quite that sh-sh-shade of gre-he-he-heeeeen!" He collapsed into mindless hysterics onto James Potter's shoulder, tears of glee streaming helplessly down his face, even as his impromptu prop doubled up in his own uncontrollable spasms of mirth and the third boy, Sirius Black, slid down the wall holding his stomach, rendered incapable of any but the most basic motor skills.

"Classic!" he moaned. "Absofuckinglutely classic!" "Moony," gasped James, "you're a sodding genius. Gods, I wish we'd seen it." "Oh shit, the look on Minnie's face," laugh-sobbed the joyful young werewolf. "It was priceless. Oh, man, my ribs hurt."

Gradually, the three Gryffindor fifth years composed themselves, although for a while, every time they made eye contact, they dissolved into fresh paroxysms of mirth. Sirius sobered first, wiping tears from his eyes as he gazed fondly upon two of his three best friends. Gods but he loved them, with a savage possessiveness that frightened him sometimes. His boys, his group. They were each an intrinsic quarter part of a whole, like four main points of a compass, or the four seasons of the year. He considered them for a moment.

James, his oldest friend. Sure, steady, steadfast James, who had a kind word for everyone, took the younger, unsure Gryffindors under his wing. He flew a broomstick with an astounding grace and breathtaking speed, possessed an amazing and lightning-quick intelligence and a sweet gullibility which left him the good-natured victim of many a practical joke. How the others had wound him up when he was named Prefect. Sirius couldn't think of anybody who better deserved the honour.

Then there was Peter, brother number two. Peter, who worked hard and got good grades, but always seemed to take a tiny bit longer than the others to get there. Peter who was always so diffident on his own behalf, but who defended his friends like a tiger. Quick-eyed Peter. Nobody could spot an opening for a possible prank as quickly. Nobody planned a last-minute party as thoroughly as Peter. He anticipated the other boys' needs before they even knew they had them. He swam like a fish, sang like an angel, and cheated so openly at wizard's chess and with such an innocent expression on his still childlike round face, that nobody minded.

Remus. Ah, Remus. The mercurial, quixotic werewolf who intrigued and intoxicated the ebony-haired wizard. Sirius had never seen such a mixture of pain and pleasure in one single, exquisite form. Remus danced around his thoughts by day and coloured his dreams by night. Remus, who showed one face, friendly yet studious, calm and reserved, to the world, and the wild, loving, infinitely mischievous heart that beat strongly beneath to his friends. Remus who, every four weeks had his body torn apart, turned inside out and transformed, yet who never bemoaned his fate. Clever, witty, beautiful Remus who adored and revelled in the sun as much as he hated and feared the paler glow of the moon, and whom Sirius loved with all of his non-quite sixteen year old being. HIS Remus, of which he had no doubt since before he was old enough to recognise the fact. Remus whom he cradled, rocked and soothed in his arms after every full moon. Remus who know, without a single word of confirmation ever having passed between them, that Sirius was his, body, heart, mind and soul. Remus who, Sirius knew, felt entirely the same way.

Sirius pushed himself up from the floor and brushed dust and wind- blown fallen leaves from his robe. He grinned at his fellow Marauders. "Come on," he said. "Pete'll be wondering where we are." "Okay," answered James, straightening his glasses (he wished he could do the same with his hair). "Yeah," agreed Remus, meeting the grin of his future intended. "Then you can show me what all the mystery's been in aid of. It'd better be good." James and Sirius exchanged knowing, conspiritorial glances. "Moony, it's so good, it's lifechanging. Last one to greenhouse two gets to kiss Peeves!" They took off, running and laughing in the early autumn sunlight, indulging in the over-exuberence of youth.

A sharp cry of pain and fear brought the three boys up short just before they reached the rear of the greenhouses, where they had arranged their rendezvous. Remus, who had been leading owing to the somewhat unfair advantage of enhanced speed and stamina, held out his arms to stop the two lagging athletes. Then he turned to them, placing an index finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. The other two nodded, then all three turned and, as one, they rounded the corner.

Peter Pettigrew was lying on the floor, curled in a tight foetal position. They couldn't see his face since his back was towards them, but from the shuddering of his shoulders it was obvious that he was crying. Sirius and James heard the beginnings of a low, warning growl start to rise in Remus' throat. He swallowed it down ~control, control~ as the trio raised their eyes from their sobbing compatriot to assess the wider situation.

Before they could take in more than a general impression of silver and green, James and Sirius found themselves face down in the dirt, pinned from above, and swallowing tiny pebbles in their twin alarmed gasps. They couldn't see to identify their captors, but the sight of a third with colourless eyes and a sleek sheet of white blond hair falling around an aristocratic, thin featured face told them all that they needed to know. James winced as he felt sharp needles of pain biting into the tender flesh of his cheek, and a painful jolt to the side of his nose as his glasses jarred into the bridge on impact before snapping and falling from his face. He felt a momentary surge of panic at the added vulnerability. Damn! Fuck! He hated his extra burden of myopia. He twisted his head and squinted. Although the features were indistinct, he could make out Sirius' form, pinned just as he was between one of Malfoy's bouncers; Crabbe, he thought, which would mean that it was Goyle sitting atop him. His arms were twisted up his back in a ruthless full nelson and he gasped aloud in pain as he felt the wrench threatening to dislocate his shoulders.

Sirius, although granted the gift of better visual accuity, was in no better position than James. He spat out small stones and bits of leaf and plant debris as he attempted to buck and writhe in impotent fury. "Bastard!" he ground out from between clenched teeth, only to be greeted by a blow to the head which left him reeling. He gave an incoherent bellow of frustration, but noted with a subconscious degree of satisfaction and gratitude that Remus was still standing. Ah, good. His golden one was far too noble to wallow in the dirt.

Other than his initial "Oh" of shock at their ambush, Remus appeared not to have reacted at all. He stood, gazing steadily at Lucius Malfoy's imperious, sneering visage. Oh, he took it all in though: Peter's shaking, sobbing form; James' frustrated grunts and moans; Sirius' wild expletives and yells. He wondered briefly to himself why they had left him standing, untouched, even as he know the answer. Peter needed no restraining. He was down, hurt, unable to retaliate. James and Sirius, although of a similar height to Remus, were broader of build, seemingly stronger and quicker with their fists should the occasion arise. Yes, the calm, analytical scholar within reasoned. It would make perfect sense, to those who did not **know** , that Sirius and James were the obvious ones to go for. Hells, even his three prone friends, who **did** know Remus, better perhaps than Remus knew himself, sometimes even they forgot. Nobody else had the slightest suspicion of the fire, the passion, the fury, the protective rage which could burn inside the werewolf's slim form. And Remus preferred it that way.

"Let them go, Malfoy." Quietly, almost casually, Remus stated his terms. Malfoy who, in his pride arrogance and social superiority was more blind than James was now, didn't see the coiled tension in Remus' stance, couldn't hear the threat in the softly spoken words. He sneered. "Or what, little girl? Will you go running to teacher? Flashing your big girly eyes, tossing your sweet honey girly locks, wringing your oh, so delicate girly hands? What will you do sweetheart? Will you cry because your little boyfriends got all hurted, diddums?"

Remus, for the moment, held his ground, didn't flinch. Sirius and James, despite their obvious discomfort, shared very similar thoughts: ~Oh yeah, that's right Lucius. Keep it up and you'll see~. Sirius added the unspoken addendum ~and if you harm so much as a single hair on his head, you're mine you snotty little gobshite~.

"Let. Them. Go. Malfoy." A second warning. Remus did not give thirds.

Lucius slowly closed the gap between himself and Remus. He reached out a hand and touched the boy's cheek gently, almost tenderly. Again, Remus did not react, neither moving into the caress, nor recoiling from it. "And what's it worth?" whispered the Slytherin. That was his cue. Enter raging werewolf, stage right. It's **showtime**!

Before Lucius could blink, Remus' fists were in his robes at the chest, bundling up the rich material as the werewolf's eyes flashed amber fire and his lips curled in a snarl of rage and disdain. Lucius had the momentary feeling of flying backwards before he hit the door of the greenhouse. Hard. His breath was knocked from his lungs, and his knees buckled on impact, but before he could slide to the ground, Remus was on him, holding him up with one slender, elegant, impossibly strong hand at this throat while the other closed slowly round his genitals.

"I'll tell you what it's worth, Lucius." Strange how his voice had still not risen. "You call off Gog and Magog there, and I won't rip off your dick and tear you a cunt. Got it, **Girly**? If they make one move, one fucking twitch, to harm any of my friends, now or at any time in the future, the next move they make will be to pick your entrails up from the floor, because I will rip them out myself. And then we'll see who goes running to teacher. It's hard to run, I hear, with your guts in a bucket. Got it?"

As if to emphasize his point, Remus tightened his grip at Lucius' groin. Lucius nodded. He was beyond speech, and rigid with terror. He despised himself for permitting the emotion. He hated Remus Lupin for instilling it. "Good, now that's settled..." Remus cocked his head, smiled as though the two had just arranged a lunch appointment, and stepped back. Lucius took a moment to gather himself and steady his thoughts. He opened his mouth and hoped that his voice had returned. He glared over at Crabbe and Goyle, still sitting atop the two - now grinning like idiots - Gryffindors. "Leave them alone," he spat. Like the automata they were, Crabbe and Goyle rose from their captives with no more than a grunt. They took up their designated positions, one on either side of, but slightly behind the ruffled aristocrat. Then the three departed, the silence broken only by James mumbled "Oculus reparo", with Malfoy trying to muster some semblance of his customary dignity as he straightened his white blond hair back into its usual slick sheet down his noble back.

Remus watched them go. For a brief moment he wished he had drawn his head back and butted Lucius' patrician features clean through his skull and into the greenhouse door. He shuddered and growled softly in suppressed frustration.

He flinched when he felt strong arms encircling his waist. Spinning, he found his gaze locked into pools of icy aquamarine. The ice burned, but the fire was soothing, comforting, calming. And he wanted to bathe in those pools, clothe himself in their fire and bask, warm and safe in their radiance. An often-made but still unspoken vow passed between him and Sirius ~One day love. Not yet but soon. One day. Wait for me? Always~. It satisfied them both - for now.

Sirius moved his hands up to Remus' shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Okay, Rem?" His voice was low and deep, slight shades of his native Liverpool accent coming through. Remus nodded. He brushed gentle lips lightly over the darker boy's cheek and raised a hand to his own shoulder. Taking Sirius' hand in his, he wove their fingers together. "Fine, Siri. Come on." The two turned and made their way over to where James was crouched over the still foetal Peter.

James stood back to let Remus through. "It's superficial. A few cuts and bruises, that's all. They just scared the hell out of him." He grinned suddenly and ruffled Remus' hair affectionately "Way to go, Remy!" Remus returned the grin, then knelt down next to Peter. He gently ran the hand which had, only moments before, threatened to emasculate the smaller boy's tormentor, through the dusty blond locks and spoke softly, crooning and coaxing as though to a frightened animal.

Slowly, gradually, Peter's trembling ceased and he painfully unfurled his stocky body to gaze blearily up at the gentle face of his friend, his rescuer and protector. In that moment, caught by the mesmeric amber eyes of the werewolf, Peter Pettigrew changed somehow. It was so small, almost infinitessimal a change, as though a butterfly had stamped upon his heart. But Peter knew, even if his friends didn't. He also knew he could never tell them.

Peter Pettigrew was in love with Remus Lupin.


	2. 01

(18 years ago, the morning after September full moon)

Peter gazed down at the sleeping werewolf, now man again since the sun was starting to rise. He smiled briefly, tenderly, and leaned forward to gently brush tendrils of hair from Remus' face.

He gasped, both at his own audacity and the feel of the soft honey coloured strands on his fingers, and he bent in closer so he could touch the lock to his cheek. Then he leaned back with a sigh.

This would NOT do.

Sirius would be here at any moment. He rarely, if ever, spent full moon - or any damn phase of the moon, Peter reflected bitterly - away from Remus, but James had needed him this time, and Remus had acquiesced readily.

Good.

That had given Peter the time he needed to prepare the killing blow to Sirius' faith in his lover.

"I'm sorry Remus, my love. So very sorry," he whispered. Then, he lifted his wand and began the incantation. Remus never stirred.

He'd just had time to conceal himself when Sirius strode into view, carrying fresh clothes and a cup of something steaming. Coffee. Peter's rat senses caught the aroma on the morning air.

He watched, barely twitching, as Sirius approached. His heart clenched at the fond expression on Sirius' face as he looked down at Remus, just as Peter had moments earlier. Then, his entire furry body gave a lurch as he saw the look of stunned horror dawn in Sirius' eyes when they witnessed the results of Peter's handiwork.

Sirius took a trembling step backwards. Even from a distance Peter could see the tears start in the blue eyes. The dark head shook slowly from side to side in denial, and the lips moved, opened to allow out the one whispered, incredulous word.

"No!"

Never for an instant taking his eyes from the sleeping Remus, Sirius bent slowly and placed the clothes on the ground. He straightened just as slowly.

"Oh Remus. No."

Sirius turned away, his shoulders slumped and starting to shake from the sobbing which was beginning to wrack his body. Head down, he walked out of sight. Moments later, Peter heard a heartbroken cry. "No!!!" and the sound of something shattering. It sounded suspiciously like a coffee mug impacting against a tree.

When he was certain that Sirius would not be returning, he crept out from under cover. Resuming human form he went over to the oblivious werewolf and took out his wand again.

"Finite incantatem."

And slowly the illusion cleared. The illusion that Peter had created on his friend's body. On his arm. The fake Dark Mark faded to nothing. Peter glanced at his own mark and wished wistfully that it was always so easy. With a last look at Remus, although he couldn't look at his eyes, even closed, Peter Apparated back to his flat to await two messages which he knew would come. One from Sirius Black to discuss the matter of the Potters' future security, and one from the man who had promised him a werewolf.

~~~~~~~

(Present Day)

At first Ron Weasley thought he had been awoken by the rain pattering on the windowpane. Then he realised it was the nips to his exposed ear that had wrenched him from the blessed arms of Morpheus.

~Merlin! Where did he get that from?~

He looked down with a sleepy-fond smile at the top of his wife's head. Then felt another tug at his ear. Insistant. And painful. He lifted the arm that wasn't holding Hermione to his chest and batted at the intruder.

"Pig! Will you sod off before I have you plucked and sold as a snitch!" he hissed. He watched as the hyperactive little bird zoomed out of the bedroom. Then groaned as it shot back in again, vicious little beak making straight for its chosen, and now half-mauled, target.

"What? You want me to come with you?" Pig hooted excitedly. Ron sighed resignedly. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." The tiny owl turned somersaults in the air. Ron suspected that, had it been able, Pig would have either crowed in triumph or yelled 'Eureka!' at the successful conclusion to its mission. Gently, trying not to awaken Hermione, and reluctant to leave his warm bed and warmer woman ~Gods, what a night **last** night had been~ he slipped his arm from around her, kissing her gently when she muttered in her sleep, "Ssh love, s'okay. I'll be back in a minute", and put on a dressing gown as she quieted again. He noted, with a degree of inordinate pride the rather impressive lovebite on her neck ~Heh! She'll kill me~, then he turned and padded yawning through the flat to the living room.

"Right, Shitface, what is it?" he queried, addressing the owl.

"Well, that's a charming way to greet your father, I must say." came a laughing voice from the direction of the fireplace. Ron jumped. "Hey dad, what's up?" He realised the early morning hour. "Is Percy okay? Bill? Mum?"

Arthur chuckled. "Everyone's fine son, although your mum frets that she doesn't hear from Percy as often as she'd like. Of course, that's only to be expected." His voice trailed away as his eyes clouded and his expression turned suddenly sombre.

"I know dad, but you know Perfect Percy. He'll be fine. He won't even cut himself shaving in case it messes up his new bathroom carpet tiles!"

Arthur grinned. "Aye Ron, you're right there. He means well enough though. Anyway, I've got the information Harry asked for. I've sent further details by owl to Dumbledore, but I think you and Hermione had better arrange to get to Hogwarts." He paused. "It's a confirmed ID Ron."

"Bollocks," said Ron softly, running his hand through his sleep- mussed red hair. "Remus is going to be absolutely gutted. And Sirius." he added.

"Well, at least we know where she is Ron." replied Arthur reasonably. Ron pulled back from his worried contemplation of what effect the news would have on the two men he considered to be extended family.

"Yeah, s'pose so. Now all we have to do is work out a way of getting her back." He grinned without humour. "Okay dad. Thanks for that. I'll go wake the little woman and we'd better start planning."

" **You'd** better not let her hear you call her that," laughed his father, "or you'll be planning a hospital visit. It won't just be Remus who's gutted! Goodnight son. Take care."

"Yeah, you too dad. Love to mum." When he turned round, Arthur's head had disappeared from the fireplace. ~Gods! Gods! Gods! How would Remus and Sirius take this?~ The arms of Morpheus now well and truly banished from his brain, Ron made his way back through to the bedroom. "'Mie - wake up love. We're in business."

~~~~~~~

Remus Lupin was in a bad mood. First, Sirius had refused him sex until he'd had a cup of coffee. Second, he'd insisted that Remus **make** the coffee. Third, he'd hidden Remus' wand so Remus had to get out of bed to make it a la Muggle. Fourth, he'd cast invisibility charms on every stitch of clothing in the place so Remus had to make it a la **naked** Muggle. Fifth, he'd been utterly deaf to Remus' protestations that the inherent danger and risk of scalding involved in making coffee a la naked **horny** Muggle meant there was a fair to good chance that there'd be no sex anyway, and sixth, and right now most importantly, Remus had stubbed his toe on the doorframe carrying the blasted coffee back to the bedroom.

"Shit! Damn! Fuck! Bugger! Bastard! All hells, that **bloody** hurts!" he moaned. Remus Lupin didn't **like** stubbing his toe on doorframes. He liked his toes. They took him places he wanted to go. He didn't like doorframes. He didn't particularly like Sirius very much right then either.

"Oh, there's my erudite lover. A veritable thesaurus of expletives. What's up, Roget?" He debated throwing the coffee at Sirius. He certainly regretted not spitting in his laughing, ebony-haired, ice- fire eyed lover's mug. He glared at Sirius, taking a sip from his own mug as he placed the other down on the bedside table.

"Well, Remy," the irrepressible one quipped, "look on the bright side. At least you didn't spill any." Sirius beamed, a wide-eyed, childlike, utterly innocent expression, making him look beatific. Remus wasn't fooled for an instant, but melted nonetheless. He laughed. He still didn't like Sirius very much though.

"Oh, love," chuckled Sirius, "where does it hurt? I'll kiss it better for you."

Remus returned the beatific look. "My cock." he stated flatly. Sirius wasn't fooled for an instant either, but he didn't care one bit. His voice instantly lowered and developed a husky undertone. "Well," he drawled, "come here and let's see if we can make it all better."

Remus shuddered as he felt his spine melt just a little more. He growled very low, almost inaudibly, in his chest and watched Sirius' eyes light up with desire, then darken with lust. He placed his own coffee carefully next to his mate's, then climbed onto the bed astride Sirius' hips.

Sirius hands came up to trace little teasing patterns across his chest, leaving his nerve endings dancing in response. They knew this dance well, did Remus' nerve endings. They had danced it often, but they never tired of it because Sirius' hands were skilled dance masters and made every time fresh, new and exciting. They were at his nipples now; teasing, coaxing, squeezing, pulling, sending those sweet, sweet electrical impulses straight to his brain and down to his groin where the resulting arousal was only too evident.

Remus languidly closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a soft sound which was midway between a sigh and a groan. He was answered with an echoing sound from Sirius, followed by a whispered "By all the gods, Remus, you are magnificent."

He smiled and brought his head forward and down, brushing his lips against his lover's. "Flattery, my beloved, will get you everywhere". He caught Sirius' bottom lip between his teeth and bit down gently, simultaneously running the tip of his tongue along the captured flesh. Sirius' tongue ran along Remus' top teeth, seeking and eventually being granted admission to his lover's sweet mouth. Sirius loved coffee in the mornings, especially when he licked its taste and scented its aroma from such a beaufiful recepticle. He moaned softly as their tongues explored each other's mouths, gently caressing, never rushing, tasting and being tasted.

He felt Remus' hands drift into his hair and he moved to mirror the action on his lover, eager to push for more but content to wait. Ah, yes, he could wait because his mate gifted him with such good things, which he loved to savour and then return to him as he shared all he had, all he **was** with his beautiful, skillful, sinful Remus - how could something so pure be so damned sinful? Sirius had long ago stopped trying to work out the answer to that riddle. The answer was beyond the wisest sphinx, the most renowned oracle. No, this simply **was** , and Sirius gave daily thanks for it. "I love you Remus," he murmured.

Remus pulled back and gently rubbed his nose against his lover's. "Sirius." he said. Just that one word, and that was all he needed to say. Because when Remus said his name he didn't simply say it. He held it, he caressed it, he kissed it, he tasted it, cradled it, kept it safe, made love to it. Hells, sometimes he fucked the living daylights out of it. And oh, Sirius loved it, loved him. He wanted to hear his name on Remus' lips until the end of their lives. Nothing was better.

Remus was now brushing those lips along Sirius' jawbone and up. He nipped and nibbled gently at an earlobe and at the same time he began a gently thrusting motion with his hips.

"Ahhhhh, yesssss." Sirius let out his breath in a long sigh and moved his hands down to grasp Remus' hips gently, thumbs circling the hipbones as he lifted his own hips in time with Remus' motion. "Mmmmmmmhhhh." Another soft growl as their erections brushed against each other, this one starting as two separate rumblings deep in the chests of each man, fighting its way through two throats, two mouths, two sets of kiss-swollen lips, to mingle, entwine and dance in the air above them as one single entity composed of sound, arousal, passion and deep, undying love.

Remus moved an elegant, strong hand down and lightly gripped his lover's hard penis with tapering fingers, musician's fingers. If Sirius was the dancer, then Remus was the musician, playing his lover like a virtuoso, his tune of choice primal in its sensuality.

Remus now provided the words to his tune as he stroked and pumped slowly. "Fuck me Siri. Take me now and wrap your arms around me. I want to feel you inside me, filling me, feeding me, giving me life as I take you in and give you shelter. No more pain my love, except for that fleeting, sweet pain which brings the deeper pleasure and joy as you take me. No more dark except the night-beauty of your soft hair on my skin. No more tears except the tears of joy at this ecstasy we share. No more nightmares, only sweet, beautiful dreams of our eternity. Fuck me my love. Make me yours again." Ah yes, Remus had written fine lyrics to his tune, and Sirius could only follow on in the dance.

He shifted his grip slightly and gently rolled them both over so that Remus lay under him, his beautiful silver-spun honey gold hair fanning out on the white pillows like a sunburst. Phoebus bringing light to the world, Sirius' world. "So beautiful, Remus." he murmured. "Your words, your body, your soul. All so so incredibly beautiful".

Remus' eyes had been closed as Sirius had lain him down. He opened them now and look deep into his mate's adoring gaze. Sirius gasped as he felt himself start to drown in the molten honey sunshine before him. Oh, but Remus was stunning. "Sirius." he said softly again, and Sirius felt the waves of love wash over him, covering him from head to toe as he began his downward journey, remapping a much-travelled but so very well-loved route, the route which would eventually bring them both truly home.

~~~~~~~

The short man withdrew with a sigh from the rigid, unresponsive body beneath him. He got to his feet and gazed at his...lover? Hardly that! Partner? He blew out a mirthless laugh. Conquest? How could you conquer something that never fought back? Victim then?

He gazed around the room, flickering candlelight softly illuminating the double row of makeshift pallets, masking the drugged, dazed expressions on the half-dead blank faces of the beds' occupants. His gaze eventually returned to his...yes, victim. But they were **all** victims, even him. Impassionate eyes appraised the still form. Young. So very young, with an underdeveloped, almost boyish figure. It was the boyishness which had attracted him to her. Pretty. Yes, very pretty. She would have been beautiful really, if it weren't for her dead eyes, in spite of her catatonic state.

But then, he mused, they were all beautiful. Every last one of them possessed a hypnotic beauty that transcended the merely physical. They flashed fire, breathed passion, moved with oh, such exquisite grace. At least... **he** had. None of the poor wretches here possessed his spirit; beaten, raped, chained, broken. The room was always deathly quiet in mute mockery of his...their... **his** school dormroom. That chamber had rung with his voice, his laughter, even his tears. The short man with the weak eyes missed that.

Again his mind was brought back to the female on the bed before him - yes, female - not girl. Certainly not woman, perhaps never woman, and he felt his rage rising in him, a host of iron butterflies trampling his atrophied heart anew. He wanted to hear her howl. He wanted to hear **him** howl.

He drew the heavy glove from his hand - his silver hand - and smiled grimly to himself at the uncomfortable stirrings all around him, accompanied by groans and faint whimpers. He'd long ago given up on love, on friendship, on honesty. After all, his now-dead master had promised him all those things. And he had deceived him, reneged on his promises. His master's power had been shattered, taken from him, but Peter still had power. Oh yes, in this room, surrounded by squirming, frightened, bound werewolves, Peter Pettigrew was master.

Her lips were moving. There, he had awoken the nearly-dead. He bent in lower to catch her whispered words.

No - word. The same word, chanted over and over and over like a mantra.

"Remus"

The rage reached his brain, and Peter brought the silver hand down onto the body beneath him.

How dare she mock him!

~~~~~~~

"Dumbledore wants us love. Doesn't say much, but it looks like a Ministry job." Remus ran a hand through his hair, frowning down at the parchment in his other hand.

"Tell him to fuck off, we're retired!" came the rejoinder from the kitchen. Remus glanced at the door, smiling and shaking his head.

"Sirius, we're forty years old. We've just proved we're fit with the most amazing bedroom feats - for which I thank you again, most profusely by the way. We're hardly retirement age, even for Muggles." Remus gently admonished his mate as Sirius came through the doorway with a platefull of toasted sandwiches. He had a half-eaten one in his hand which he used to emphasize his point.

"Pensioned off then. Time off for good behaviour. We've hung up our Order badges and our wands are dusty and in danger of backfiring from lack of use."

"We should at least see him Sirius. We owe it to him to tell him face to face."

"We owe them **nothing** love. We've shed and bled more than enough blood for the Order and the fucking Ministry over the years. No more!" He made a slicing motion through the air with the remains of his toastie, then placed it down on the plate, put the plate on the table and crossed to Remus, snatching the parchment from his hand.

Sirius was tired of plotting, of intrigue, of fighting, of killing, of the uncertainty of not knowing when he and Remus watched the sunrise together on some fucking battlefield or other whether they'd live to see it set. He was heartily tired of the nightmares, less frequent now, but which would have one or the other of them shooting up screaming in their bed. The nightmares that could only be banished by being pulled into strong arms and soothed by gentle hands and soft whispers. But most of all, Most. Of. All. he was tired of the Ministry's attitude towards Remus, of the fact that the ignored his very existence if at all possible or, failing that, "...deeply regretted that, due to Mr. Lupin's status as a registered werewolf, and mindful of the laws governing lycanthropes..." they could not - no **would** not acknowledge the fact that Remus had saved their collective arses, not to mention their miserable lives, more times than most of the even knew, never mind would care to remember or admit. Yes, well, they could shove their precious laws firmly and tightly up their oh, so regretful fundaments! Sirius Black wanted none of it.

So why in the name of all that was Light was Remus looking at him that way?

"Siri, we should still tell him to his face."

"Tell him what?" Sirius was wary. He'd been trapped like this before.

"That we won't do it."

"You won't change your mind?"

"No love, I promise."

"Because if you do..."

"I **won't**. I won't let him persuade me."

Sirius grunted. He handed a toasted sandwich to Remus.

"Are we still going to tell him to fuck off?" His eyes lit up at the thought.

"You can if you want. They're your words, not mine."

"I will, you know."

"No, Siri. I don't think you will."

Sirius sighed and his shoulders drooped. "Nah, you're right. I probably won't. When does he want to see us?"

"He says 6.30 this evening."

"During dinner? Must be important."

"Hmmmm." Remus chewed thoughtfully. "Sirius..."

"No, love. The answer is **no**. We're not doing it, whatever 'it' is."

"Okay, you're right. I'll owl him back and tell him we'll see him though."

Sirius nodded and sat at the dining table, watching Remus draw out parchment and quill to compose a reply. They'd been through enough. They were still **healing** for fuck's sake. He knew they didn't need this job, that they shouldn't **couldn't** do this job.

He also knew that in all likelihood, they would.

As Remus released the owl he sighed, rose and went into the bedroom to begin packing.


	3. 02

(18 years ago, 2 weeks after September full moon)

Lily opened the door as soon as Peter knocked, worry and concern written clearly all over her face.

"Peter - hi!" she said brightly, then lowered her voice. "Pete, what the hell's going on?" Her eyes kept darting between the half-open living room door and Peter's face as she stood back to let him in.

Peter shrugged "No idea, Lil. I just got an owl from him, saying to meet him here. Why?" He hoped he had struck just the right note between concern and nonchalance. It had taken Sirius longer than he'd anticipated after the last full moon to contact him.

"Remus isn't with him, Pete. He looks like he hasn't slept or eaten in weeks and well...just go in and take a look for yourself. We can't get any sense out of him. He won't even play with Harry." She waved her hand towards the door, and Peter steeled himself.

"'Lo Jay, Sirius." Gods, she was right. He looked a sight. The dark circles under his eyes made them look almost completely devoid of colour. Well, the dark circles and the fact that it looked like someone had turned off a light in his head. The eyes were cold, dead.

He'd also been drinking.

Peter felt a momentary jolt as he realised he was shocked at being surprised by this visual information. Then he remembered the last time he had seen an alcoholic drink pass Sirius' lips.

End of fifth year. Shrieking shack. The night that Remus had almost killed Snape. And Sirius had almost killed Remus trying to subdue the wolf's unsatiated bloodlust. Sirius hadn't touched a drop since.

Shit! He'd really stuck the knife into his friend - brother - hadn't he? The initial surprise at the sight of Sirius disolved into a feeling of deep, unrelenting guilt.

Peter teetered on the verge of taking his wounded packmate into his arms and confessing all; his love for Remus, his jealousy, his...recent acquaintances, his guilt, his fear, the fact that he felt like a drowning man going under for the third and final time.

They'd understand. They'd help him - they **loved** him. He'd cry, they'd all cry together, then they'd get Remus round and they'd all work it out. They **had** to work it out.

As Peter opened his mouth to speak, Sirius dropped his gaze to look at his hands. Peter's eyes followed to see what had caught his attention.

Sirius was twisting a ring round and round on his finger. Peter knew it. He'd watched with false joy and an aching heart as Remus had placed it there six months before, with a smile on his beautiful lips and a look in his eyes of such love and devotion and **peace** that the butterflies in Peter's heart had felt like they were dancing a frantic fandango.

A gold band with two stones, carefully crafted so that they wound round each other, yin/yang fashion. Completion. A whole. An icy blue aquamarine to match the colour in Sirius' eyes. A golden topaz that didn't even **begin** to reflect Remus' own. Even Sirius had admitted that.

And Remus owned - and wore - this ring's twin.

Peter felt bile rising in his stomach and swallowed it ruthlessly. He'd wanted to vomit then, too.

He realised that should he take that one step forward, his next words had the power to remove the dagger his actions had driven into Sirius' heart.

He decided to twist it instead.

"Where's Remus?"

Sirius winced as though he had been burned. The dam that threatened to break behind his eyes was only held in check by the lump in his throat. Sirius wondered if the lump in his throat was the bit that was missing from his heart. ~Remus. Oh gods, Remus. I love you. How could you? I love you. How could you? I love you~.

He slowly raised his eyes, as though the weight behind them was almost too much for him to bear and finally, painfully, met Peter's gaze. "I...he...he's been away for a few days. Visiting. He'll be back tomorrow." It sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks either.

"Is he at Bella's?" asked Lily gently, seizing onto a topic she could try to expand. Sirius just nodded mutely and dropped his gaze to his hands again. Lily tried again. "How is she? And Tamar?"

Sirius shrugged, not bothering to look up this time. "Fine, last I heard."

"How come you didn't go with him?" James wanted to enter the conversation. He desperately wanted to keep it light, but he needed to know what was up with Sirius. He needed to help. "Have you two had a tiff, then? Handbags at dawn? Honeymoon over at long last?"

James hoped - oh, how he hoped - that Sirius might laugh. He fully expected a sarcastic quip. He didn't expect, and was scared out of his wits to see, the dam burst in Sirius' eyes. All the gods, was it physically possible for one body to hold that much water?

~Go to him, you dozy git, put your arms round him~.

James' heart and arms so wanted to obey his brain's command, but his legs refused to cooperate. His voice had fled into hiding as well. He and Peter stood rooted to the spot and watched a man's spirit die.

Lily reacted first. She sat next to Sirius and took the sobbing, hearbroken, terminally confused and bereft wizard into her arms, rocking him, crooning to him, holding his head to her shoulder and rubbing his convulsing back.

"Shhhh, Siri. It's okay. Let it go, hon. It's fine. It's okay."

He lifted his head and looked wildly round the three of them. "No, Lil. It won't be fine. It's not okay. It's so not **fucking** okay that I don't think it will ever **be** okay again. It's...it's..." He grasped for elusive words.

"Is it Remus, Siri? Is something wrong with Remus?" No matter how gently Lily asked that question, it could never have been gently enough. Peter held his breath.

Sirius lurched to his feet and smashed his fist into the wall, over and over, sobbing in rage and anguish. "Something...wrong? With Remus? Oh, **fuck** **it** **all** **to** **Hell**!" He spun round to face them all. "Would you call selling your friends across the Styx and into Hades 'something **wrong** '? Because if so, Lil, then yes, there's something wrong with Remus. Something **very** fucking wrong with Remus. Damn fucking straight there is!"

"What!" James' voice had returned spontaneously, and it joined Lily's in her disbelief.

"You heard me, Jay. You and Lil and Harry - you're not safe. You know that."

"Well, yeah. That's why you're going to be our Secret-Keeper when..."

" **No**! No, Jay. No, I can't be your Secret-Keeper. Not now."

"But Sirius."

"Didn't you **hear** me? What I just **said**. It's not possible. Not now. Not ever."

"Sirius, how?...why? Ah, fuck no...Sirius, no. Not Remus...he..."

"Wouldn't? Couldn't? Yeah, Lil, I know. I've been going over it again and again and again. 'Not Remus'"

He turned his face up to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut, fists clenched. "You know, I lie there...just watching him sleep...Oh, sweet Merlin, James he's so beautiful...and I think...I think 'Where are you? Where are you in that...beautiful head of yours?'...and sometimes...sometimes Jay, he smiles and just kind of...murmurs in his sleep and I wonder...I wonder who he's **with** y'know?...And I stroke his hair and I...I try to hear him but I never can. And I look down...at his arm...and I **see** it, just like I did after the moon, and...it's big and black and it **burns** **me**...but...it shouldn't burn me, should it Jay? 'cos it's on **him** but it burns **me**. And I can see it...I can see that fucking obscene skull...grinning at me...laughing at me. And...and the snake...it **writhes** right of his arm and into my brain and...it bites and it squeezes until I. Can't. Think. Any. More..."

Sirius' voice trailed off into a silence so thick and heavy it felt as though a large quilt had been thrown over the entire world. But instead of comforting, this quilt constricted and smothered. He looked again from one to the other of his three friends, waiting, but he couldn't have said what for.

Peter spoke first. "Sirius, you've got to get out. If he has the Dark Mark..."

"But he **hasn't** , he **can't** have - we'd have **seen** it." James was desperately trying to deny what his head was telling him. He knew his heart would never believe it.

"I **have** seen it, Jay." Sirius looked at him, defeated.

"Jay, it only shows when he calls them. It fades in a few hours." For a moment, Peter thought he'd given too much information away, but Lily and James were too stunned, Sirius too lost in misery, to ask how he knew that. All Sirius said was, "I guessed he must have used a concealment charm somehow."

"Sirius," Lily said finally, "Peter's right. You could come with us. You're at risk too. We should..."

"No, Lil." Sirius shook his head. "Please forgive me. Please try to understand, I'd die for you - both of you - Harry, too. But the gods help me or damn me as they will, I can't leave him."

Peter's heart gave a lurch which almost left him breathless with panic. ~No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. No, Sirius, No~. "Sirius, you **have** to!" ~Oh, Sirius **please**. **Please** do it. You just don't get it. You **have** to go with them~.

But Sirius was shaking his head again.

"Pete, I can't. That's all there is to it. I love him, Pete. I can't live without him. Plain and simple. Unconditional. No matter what. I'm his, just as he's...Voldemort's. I've got to try, Pete. I've got to get him back. It's not a duty thing, I just...love him. There is no **me** without **him**. And if he kills me then...so be it. But I would **never** hurt him. And I will **never** **ever** leave him. I'd die if I left him."

James and Lily exchanged glances. They knew what it had cost Sirius to come to them. The possible future cost to him they couldn't even begin to contemplate. Then Sirius laid out the terms which would demand the greatest cost of all.

"So, you see, I **can't** be your Secret-Keeper. It **has** to be Pete."

~~~~~~~

Present Day

At 6.30pm, as requested, Sirius and Remus stood outside the door to Albus Dumbledore's office. They'd been here many times since they'd ceased to be pupils, but had never quite overcome the nervous, giggly feeling that they were being hauled in over some prank that had either misfired or else worked so spectacularly well, they they might as well have written "Marauders were here" all over it. They turned to each other.

"Now, don't forget," hissed Sirius, "the answer is..."

" **No** , I know." finished Remus, rolling his eyes in mock frustration.

" Well just make damn sure you don't bloody well forget!"

"I **won't**. Sirius...?"

"What? If you dare...!"

"No. I just wanted to say that I love it when you get all dominant with me."

"Really?" Sirius flashed a leering grin and waggled his eyebrows.

Remus simply growled, low in his throat. And smiled, winningly.

Sirius instantly recognised his mate's ploy. It had never failed to date. He thought it would be a shame to fail now. "Come here you teasing bast..."

His words were cut off by Remus' mouth closing on his own, by Remus' arms closing around him, by Remus pressing him against the hard wood door, by Remus' thigh parting his legs and rubbing against his ever responsive groin...

By Albus Dumbledore opening his office door, sending the two amorous wizards sprawling on the floor, Sirius flat on his back, Remus flat on Sirius. They locked startled gazes for just a moment, then Remus turned his head and they both looked up into the highly amused face of their former headmaster.

"Ah, Sirius, Remus. Prompt as usual, I see...and unorthodox as ever."

Albus made his way to his chair, leaving the younger, and totally unembarrassed duo to fend for themselves. They jumped to their feet. They had no robes to straighten since they both preferred Muggle fashion. So they were soon sitting in the two chairs which Albus had placed on the opposite side of the desk to his own.

They nodded to him in greeting.

"Professor," said Sirius, and "Albus," said Remus.

~Damn him!~ thought Sirius, ~how does he do that? 'Albus' just like they were old friends!~ The old man still had the very real power to scare the bejaysus out of Sirius.

The 'old man' in question was now studying them both over the rim of his glasses. He remembered the first time he'd had just **this** two before him, rather than as part of the awsome foursome. It had been a visit that he'd been anticipating for some time. In fact, there had been a rumour that some of the Staff and Students had a 'book' running as to when the meeting would take place. And the two facing him were the only ones who had absolutely **no** idea.

He could see them now, standing before him - they'd been far too tense to sit - their hands constantly twisting and turning in their own robes. Not out of nerves, he suspected, but from the overwhelming, aching effort not to touch each other.

Sirius had spoken first. Or tried to. Credit where it's due, the boy **did** try. Dumbledore had let him trip and fall over his words like and obstacle course from an almost malicious delight in finally - **finally** \- being able to out-prank the pranksters.

Finally, Remus had rolled his eyes and shot Sirius a look - no - a **look**. Then he'd turned to the headmaster and said, with a calmness that belied his hands and eyes, "It's time, sir."

"Remus!" Sirius had stage-whispered from the corner of his mouth, "You **have** to say more than **that**."

"No, Siri," the astute young werewolf had responded with the same degree of calm, still staring at the headmaster, "I don't think I do."

It had been a Thursday. Albus had been aware of the - ahem - 'ritual' required. He gave them two days off lessons. No sooner had the words been out of his mouth, along with his blessings, than the two were gone. Four days clear! Nobody ever knew where they went; they never even told James and Peter. Nobody saw them until they strolled hand in hand, back into the Gryffindor common room on Sunday evening; sated, content and deliriously happy, if a little bruised, scratched, stiff of movement and ravenously hungry.

And, apparently, Albus himself had won the bet!

It was good to know that some things never changed, mused Albus, thinking of the pair's recent ingress, although he thought that their years' earlier egress had been **slightly** quicker, and certainly more elegant. Yes, it was good to know that the best things endured, and strengthened and deepened in that endurance.

He looked into the two faces before him, both expressions trying to say "no way", both expressions really saying "where now?"

~~~~~~~

He'd pulled early evening watch again.

And it was raining, hadn't stopped for nearly a whole day.

Great!

There was nothing he hated more than early evening watch in the rain.

Outside.

It wasn't as though anything even **happened**. Dead time.

Hopefully that would change soon.

He looked up at the sky where the moon had risen, even though it was still light. Should be full sometime this weekend, he estimated, although he couldn't be completely sure. Something should happen a few days after that.

They never left him alone with the werewolves, or he would have **had** to know when the moon was. With the silencing spells on the dormitory doors, he never even **heard** them.

He was grateful for that. He still wished he could wangle a warder duty, rather than watch though. Then he could at least **do** something.

His arm itched. He scratched absently at the place where the Dark Mark had been until Voldemort had been finally and irrevocably defeated two years ago.

It itched often.

He wondered idly whether it was similar to the phantom pain which amputees suffered.

He sighed and got to his feet to begin another patrol round. He gazed up at the house, rain spattering onto his glasses. Yes, he wished he could pull warder duty occasionally.

Then he could keep at least **some** of them safe, **sometimes**.

He knew how many of them there were, their names, their ages.

He knew what was happening to them. That was how he'd realised.

How he'd got the information out to his father that she was here.

Percy Weasley sighed again and resumed his patrol.

~~~~~~~

"No!" Sirius stated, flatly.

Remus crossed his fingers and prayed inwardly that his mate wouldn't actually carry out his threat to tell Albus Dumbledore to fuck off.

"By all that's Light, Albus" - well, what do you know, he'd said it - used **the** **name** , heh - "how could you even **contemplate** this? We've done enough clean-up jobs for the Ministry. and what thanks do we always get? - does **he** always get?" He jabbed a forefinger in Remus' direction.

"Sirius, my dear boy, I know..."

"No, Albus, I don't think you do." Remus entered the fray, mainly out of respect for his mate's outstanding - for Sirius - verbal restraint. He deserved the backup. "We are **not** the Ministry's resident hunting dogs, kept leashed and kennelled until they foul up and are forced to remember that we exist."

"Remus, this is not a Ministry job. I've called in your sector of the Order. The Ministry..." Albus started. Sirius, warming to Remus theme, interrupted him.

"Yeah, yeah, we know. Same old story. The Ministry fucks up some surveillance, blows its cover, and now expects **us** to go in their, put **our** necks on the line, blow its nose and wipe its arse for it - **again** \- while all the little individual gobshites responsible for the fuckup crawl back to their cozy little beds with sweet dreams and clean fingernails. Well, they can all go and fuck off!"

**Yes**! Sirius Black tells Albus Dumbledore to fuck off! Indirectly, of course. Still, he could strike that off his "things to do before I die" list.

He sat back without remembering exactly when he'd stood up, and folded his arms with finality, fixing the headmaster with what he hoped was a determined glare, but suspected looked more like a mute appeal. ~Please don't make us do this. If you **ever** had **any** parents at all, you wouldn't make us do this~.

Albus sighed. ~Give him his due, he **looks** guilty~ thought Remus. He scented the headmaster discreetly. ~He **feels** guilty, too. And angry. At Sirius? Surely not~.

"Succinctly put, Sirius, as ever," Albus responded. "However..."

He handed a thin sheaf of parchment to Remus. Sirius fought an insane urge to yell at Remus not to take it, but contented himself with a sigh as as the slim fingers closed elegantly around the proffered sheets.

Remus read. As he read, Sirius noted his face blanching and his eyes widening, ~ **Stop** , Remus, stop **now** ~, then his body started to shake, ~No, **really** love. You've **got** to stop **now** ~. One hand went to his mouth, ~oh, damn, damn, **damn**!~, and eventually he lifted his eyes to Sirius' own. ~Oh, fuck. We're going, aren't we?~

Wordlessly, Remus handed the papers to Sirius. He scanned them briefly. Then, he read them again more slowly. A **lot** more slowly, not quite believing what his own eyes saw. Still staring at the papers, he stretched a hand out sideways and felt Remus take it in his own.

"Fuck me!" he swore softly.

He felt Remus' shuddering growing along with what sounded like a whimper. He wanted to calm him, to soothe his distressed mate, but he couldn't. He wanted to say...something... **anything**...but there was nothing he could say to make it go away. To make it alright for Remus. ~Oh, love. I'm sorry~. Finally, he raised his head and looked, first at Remus, and then slowly towards Albus. He opened his mouth, and only one sentence found its way out. And he really didn't want to say it. And he really didn't want it to be true. But he did.

And it was.

"It's a fucking breeding kennels!"

"I'm afraid so; and I'm even more sorry that **that** is not, for you, the worst of it. The reason why I called you in is because, being you, you simply wouldn't countenance anybody else going in your place."

Sirius felt the blood drain to his feet, and wondered irrelevently why they weren't swollen to the size of pumpkins. He shook his head, but it was Remus who whispered, brokenly.

"No, Albus. Please, no." ~Oh, gods they knew. They both knew~.

"I'm so sorry Remus, Sirius. More than you could ever know, but I'm afraid there is no doubt. Our source is renowned for his...thoroughness. Tamar has been located and positively identified. She's there."

The last thing Sirius heard before his brain shut down completely was the beginning of Remus' wail of anguish. And he was powerless to help.

~~~~~~~

"Treason!"

Peter's head flew up in shock and surprise from his intense study and analysis of his own palm.

Damn! He'd just been getting into his flow. But, surely, that hadn't been Trelawney's voice? It had been deep, gutteral, almost masculine in tone. He glanced nervously around the room, Nope. Nobody else there, just him and her, and he was certain that **he** hadn't said it.

He looked at her face more closely. Oh, gods, that was **gross**. He **hated** when people rolled their eyes right back like that.

Oh. my. god. - A trance! A **real** trance!

With a mixture of trepidation, revulsion and excited anticipation, Peter waited to see if she had any more to say. And he'd thought sixth year Divination would be boring! He didn't have long to wait.

"The soulless one will lead the rat to the great seducer with the empty promise. Four times betrayed. The stag and the tigress shall offer themselves up in sacrifice; Orion's hound will languish where the stars can never shine their purity; Rome's murdered twin will cry alone at Selene's full glow. The traitor shall hide his face among fire and will heed the master's siren song in his hour of peril. Then cry havoc! and let slip the dogs of war. The dog rose's roots will become the rat's noose."

Peter got up from his chair and floated backwards and down through the door in the floor. He landed gently on the grass near the Whomping Willow. He looked around, disorientated. This wasn't right.

Lucius. Lucius was there, looking at him with his colourless eyes; eyes without soul.

"Peter! Peter! Come with me Peter. I can help you. **He** can help you. Come on Peter. Come before it's too late."

"No! Leave me, lies and poison and death!" he heard himself shriek at Lucius, although he couldn't feel his lips moove.

"Peter." He spun where he stood and saw James and Lily. But they were dead weren't they.

"Oh, Peter. You've been so bad. So wicked. And you can't go back you know. Just like us. We can't **ever** go back."

"No, no, no, go away. Just go away."

"Hey, Pete! Want to see what **we** can do?" Another spin. Sirius and Remus. Fucking. Rutting like filthy fucking beasts. Like the dogs that they were. And they were **laughing** at him. And James and Lily were laughing at him. And Lucius was laughing at him. And it was all around him: laughing, and laughing and laughing and louder and louder and he put his hands in his ears to stop it only they weren't hands they were rats' paws and they weren't big enough because they were Wormtail's paws, but Peter's ears and he had Wormtail's tail and there was Harry trying to cut it off and he was laughing to and they were all laughing at him and why were they laughing at him it wasn't Peter's fault it was Wormtail's Peter was good Peter didn't hurt his friends no but that was wrong and now all the rats were on him and he could feel them biting and biting and saying but isn't that silly because rats can't talk you're bad peterreallybaditwasntwormtailitwasyouandyouandyouandyouandyouandyouand youandweregonnalaughatyouforeverandeverandeverandeverandeverrandhespun aroundwildlyarmsflailinglashingoutblindlynostopitstopitstopitstopit.

He jerked wildly upwards from the dream, hands beating frantically at his body, trying desperately to rid himself of the now non-existant rats, heart threatening to burst from his chest, desperately gasping down great, gulping lungfuls of air.

Oh gods. Oh fuck. It was never normally that vivid.

He willed himself to calm down and gradually his breathing eased and heart slowed. He looked around himself. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again. He pulled himself up from the chair and started over to his bed. He gazed out of the window as passed and watched the waxing moon in the sky for a moment.

"It's already too late, Lucius. It was always too late."


	4. 03

(18 years ago. November 1st)

It wasn't Remus. It. Wasn't. Remus.

It was Peter.

And he'd given Peter the ammunition. Hells, he'd handed Peter the fucking gun; loaded, cocked and ready to fire.

That meant it was really him, didn't it? **He'd** betrayed James and Lily. **He'd** betrayed Harry. He'd even betrayed Peter in a way, assuming that Peter would be strong enough for the job. And he'd betrayed Remus. And that **hurt**. More than anything.

So, if it hurt so much, why was he laughing?

Why was he laughing when he knew what Peter had done? Why was he laughing when he saw James and Lily's faces, frozen in rictus of death, as he'd seen them when he'd got to Godric's Hollow ten minutes too late? Why was he laughing now when he hadn't been able to laugh for his Remus for more than a month? When he thought of Remus' hurt, confused, beautiful eyes as he'd curtly rebuffed yet another of his lover's attempts to cheer him up? When he'd turned from the warm embrace of the one man who meant more than his life to him? When he'd actually smashed his fist into Remus' face?

That was why he'd gone to Peter's house. To get away from the dazed expression on the bleeding face, as Remus had raised a trembling hand to his cut lip and stared in mute disbelief at the blood on his fingers, before raising his eyes to his mate's. He'd run from those eyes which, while they asked a myriad of questions, still offered the deepest love with all of the werewolf's wounded heart.

Peter hadn't laughed when he'd told Sirius what he'd done. When he showed Sirius up for the brainless fucking fool he'd been. Why **should** Peter have laughed when it wasn't funny?

And why couldn't he stop?

The Aurors from the Department of Magical Catastrophes had dragged Sirius away from the scene of the carnage, from the stink and the smoke and the gushing water running rivulets of blood around their feet, to enable the Muggle authorities to do what little they could for their own people. They were now in a nearby park and had taken shelter in a small grove of beech trees.

He was mad. He had to be, to do what he'd just done without a second thought and laugh about it. Not one of them had managed to get a word out of him. So, all they could do was restrain him - which they had - and wait for clearance to bring him in.

They heard it before they saw it.

"SIIIIIIRRRRRRRIIIIIIIUUUUUUUSSSSSSS!!!!!"

It was a werewolf. No doubt about it. They'd been trained to spot a number of dark creatures at fifty paces, if not further. And this was your textbook non-transformed werewolf on the rampage: gold eyes flashing, and not just from the reflected sunlight, teeth bared in a snarl, moving quicker and infinitely more gracefully than humanly possible.

"Fucking hell. Look at that bastard. Heads up. Silver out. Keep it away from Black, it'll gut him!" Oh, yes, mustn't let the sacrificial lamb get all eated up by the big bad wolf, must we? Baa baa 'Black' sheep.

Sirius actually stopped laughing. Why couldn't he laugh for Remus?

"We'll have to take it out. Fry it!"

"NO!" Sirius was panicked into coherency.

The nearest Auror heard him and turned a questioning eye in his direction.

"Please...No."

"Hold your fire." The Auror turned to fully face Sirius. He looked as though he just might listen. "Sobered up now have we lad? Right. Talk, and talk fast."

"Don't kill him. Please don't kill him. Let me talk to him."

"You can't reason with a werewolf in that state, lad. It'll have..."

"He."

"Eh?"

"I said **he**. He's a **he** , not an 'it'. And he won't hurt me."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"No. But I **am** sure of **him**."

"Fancy yourself a werewolf expert then, eh?"

"You could say that. He's my mate. His name is Remus Lupin. And he's done nothing wrong." ~Nothing wrong. Nothing wrong. Remus Lupin. He's done **nothing** **wrong** ~

"Well, be that as it may, lad. We can't just leave him here in that state. There's too many folk, too many muggles..."

"Please. Let me go to him. I **promise** I won't try anything. Just let me go to him. Let me calm him."

"Black," the Auror was not completely without sympathy, "even if we let you, what's to say what he'll do when we take you? Assuming he'll even let us - which he won't."

The Auror was right. Sirius knew it. But this was **Remus**. And he needed to try to...explain. To stop that screaming that was rending his heart as surely as Moony's claws. To touch him. To kiss him. To hold him, his mate, his lover, his life, his everything good and pure, in his arms one more time. To apologise. To say goodbye.

Because Sirius Black knew where he was being taken. Even through his earlier madness he had heard them, telling him.

It came to him suddenly, as the best ideas often do in frantic moments.

"Ten minutes. Give me ten minutes. That's all. Ten minutes with him."

"And then?"

"Stupify us. Both of us. You've got me, and you'll be wanting him for questioning anyway, won't you?"

If the Auror was surprised at Sirius' proposal, he didn't show it. He looked intently at him for a moment, considering. Then he nodded, once.

"You've got five."

"Thank you." Sirius would have settled for two.

"Let him through. And sheathe that fucking silver!"

By the time Sirius had been allowed access and crossed the small expanse of grass to reach him, Remus had stopped screaming, but Sirius wished he hadn't. The great, wrenching sobs torn from a throat worn raw with anguish and impotent rage almost destroyed him.

~No. Got to be strong. Can't break now. Not now when he needs me. Can't show him I'm afraid.~

Remus was crouched on all fours, head down, body folded in on itself. Except for his hands and arms. Great, bleeding gouges had been torn down both arms in Remus' frustration at not being able to surmount his horror of the silver barrier. His nails now gouged into the soft earth on either side of him. The long, slim, elegant hands - musician's hands, Sirius thought again - were cut and scratched, covered with dirt. The nails that had teased and caressed him to ecstacy so many times were torn, split, embedded with dirt and Remus' blood.

Sirius crouched down slowly, forcing back his tears, and swallowing hard until his heart was beaten brutally back down from his throat to almost it's proper place.

"Remus?"

Remus' head snapped up and he sprang back, to land crouched, unseeing eyes simultaneously wild and vacant, like a cornered wild animal. He keened, then growled and drew back his lips in a threatening snarl, his body trembling.

~Oh, my sweet love. You don't even **know** me. Oh, sweetheart, what have we done to you? You're so **lost**.~

"Remus, love." ~Softly, gently, don't frighten him any more.~ Sirius slowly extended his left hand, palm down. ~Please come back to me.~

At first, Sirius thought there had been no reaction. Then he saw the slight flare of Remus' nostrils. Scenting him.

"That's right my love. You know me, don't you? It's Sirius, sweetheart. It's me. It's Sirius. And I love you. I love you so much. And I'm so, so sorry." Sirius' voice cracked at the last, but the crack in his voice seemed to awaken something in Remus.

"S..s..siri?" Shaky, uncertain, lost, and so hoarse that it was barely audible. But it was a start.

"Yes, love. Come on my sweetheart. You know me. You remember."

And he did. Gradually, the lost look that Sirius hoped never to see again left the honeyed eyes that he wished to never stop seeing. Those eyes moved now, to look properly into Sirius' eyes, rather than past him. Sirius willed his own eyes to pull Remus the rest of the way back.

"Sirius?" Still shaky and unsure, but Remus reached out a tentative hand and gently touched his cheek. Sirius sighed and leaned his face into the caress. He slowly closed his eyes.

With an inarticulate cry that was equal parts sob, laugh, howl and snarl, Remus was on him, bowling him over backwards onto the grass. Frantic kisses peppered his face; forehead, cheeks, eyes, nose, chin, as grasping hands thrust into his hair, not gently; pulling, tugging, twisting. And Remus writhed on him and rolled him over and over, sobbing and mewling with total abandon. Sirius savoured the assault, committing each and every detail to memory with furious determination as he returned the rough embraces desperately. He **had** to remember.

In between the sobs, Sirius could eventually make out gasped words. "Oh Siri, oh gods, oh love, love you, love you so much. So sorry, so sorry..." ~Why is **Remus** sorry? That reminded him. He had so much so say, so much to **tell** him, and time was running out.

"Rem...Remus, love. Listen. You've got to listen. Please, angel, I **have** to talk to you. Now."

He rolled them so that Remus was half underneath him. In his peripheral vision he could just see the group of Aurors. Fuck 'em. He didn't care. They didn't matter. Not now. Remus mattered. And now Remus was gazing up at him, the way he'd looked at their handfasting. Remus trusted him. Remus had **always** trusted him. Remus loved him. Remus loved him beyond reason. Remus was about to lose him. That mattered. Remus mattered, and right now, nothing else did.

Sirius smiled down at his utterly adoring and utterly adored mate. His eyes gleamed, the ice within reigniting for the first time in weeks. He drank in the sight before him. Hells, he **devoured** it like a starving man at a banquet.

~Oh gods, let me remember this. Please let me remember him. Let me remember the touch of his skin against mine, let me remember his beautiful, soft, sunshine hair. Let me remember his hands moving on me, let me remember his smile, his everyday smile and the one only I see. Let me remember the curve of his ears, his nose. Let me remember his laugh, let me remember how he feels, in me and around me, how he trembles and cries my name when he comes. And please, please, **please**. Let me remember his eyes; the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, that are looking at me now with such love and joy that I just want to rest inside them forever. Let me remember joy. Let me remember **him**.~

"Hello, angel. Welcome back. You went walkabout on us there for a while."

"Sirius, I..."

"No, love. Listen. I've **got** to go...with them." He indicated the waiting Aurors with a brief jerk of his head. Remus stiffened and started to struggle against him.

"Remus please. I need to tell you..." he touched a gently finger to Remus' split lip and then softly to the bruise on his cheek. He'd done that. And Remus, who could probably break his spine without breaking into a sweat, hadn't lifted a finger in retaliation.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered. Remus shook his head and made as if to reply, but Sirius silenced him by placing a finger on his lips.

"I **am** sorry," he repeated, "for this, for not trusting you, for believing what I thought I saw. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I love you Remus, more than anything. You **know** that." Remus nodded. "I **have** to go with them, love. You know that, too." Remus closed his eyes. "No love, open them. I have to see your eyes. I **have** to have that." They were open. "I don't know how long I'll be gone. But I **will** come back Remus. I promise. I'll come back and we'll be okay and...you have to...hold onto that. Okay?" Another nod.

All this time, Sirius had been gently stroking Remus cheek and grass encrusted hair. He lowered his voice now so it was barely more than a whisper. "And watch the sunrises, love. For me. Because I may not be able to for a while." Silent tears were flowing from those golden eyes now, molten sunshine. Sirius only had one more thing he could think of to say, although he was certain that there were thousands there, somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Wait for me."

Remus smiled shakily up at him through his tears. "Always."

Their lips met in what both men knew to be their last kiss. It was slow, chaste and reverent. And with that kiss, each one handed his heart to the other for safekeeping. Both kept their eyes open, unable to break the link, locked to each other for as long as they could.

It was only because his eyes were open that Sirius saw the wands being slowly raised. He rolled again so he was on his side, Remus pressed into him, back to the Aurors. Sirius would not let his mate see this. He held him close, one hand in his hair at the back of his head, the other wrapped protectively round his waist.

It was because Remus had his back, and Sirius his face, to the Aurors that, for a split second, as the Aurors said "Stupify" and Sirius said "Forgive me", so that Remus only heard him and not them, that as the spell hit, Sirius saw Remus eyes grow impossibly large and incandescent, and then dim and die before oblivion claimed him.

In Azkaban prison, very, very occasionally, he would see the sunrise.

He would see those eyes die, every night, for twelve years.

Three days later, Albus Dumbledore was shocked - yes, shocked - out of gloomy reverie by a face which appeared with a soft 'pop' in his fireplace.

"Albus?"

"Dexter! What news?"

"Azkaban. For life. No trial."

Albus sighed heavily. "It's as we feared then. And Remus Lupin?"

"Not good. He reacted badly at the inquiry. Too much wolfsbane and Veritaserum. He tried to attack the Chief Examiner. I warned them. A combination of potions like that, and in those quantities,...well, they were asking for it."

"They may have been asking for it, but ultimately old friend, it's poor Remus who'll get it. Where is he now?"

"I don't know. They stunned him and carted him off somewhere. All I **do** know is he's not in Azkaban. I'll look into it for you, but it may take a while."

"Thank you, Dexter. I am grateful."

"There's an owl on its way to you. A letter from Black. I couldn't see the harm in it, considering."

"Again, I am grateful. Please contact me as soon as you have any more information."

"I will, Albus." And he was gone.

Half an hour later, an owl flew into Albus' office. Albus relieved him of a small package with a letter attached, and the owl departed, not without giving Fawkes a dirty look as he passed.

Albus opened the letter and read.

~Headmaster,

It's pointless trying to convince you that I'm not guilty. I don't know how long they're going to give me. I'm being transferred today - no trial. What's the point? Voldemort's gone, they have his Chief Lieutenant - they're happy. There's a guard here says he knows you. He said he'll get this to you. I have to believe him. Have to trust him like I didn't trust Remus.

Professor, I have to ask you for help. You see, they had to stupify him. He needs to be safe. Please keep him safe. Don't let him look for revenge. He'll kill them. And then they'll kill him. They'll make him grovel in the dirt again. I saw him do that. He shouldn't ever do that. Not Remus. But they'll kill him because he's a werewolf. They won't care that he's the only one of us left. They won't see him, really **see** him like we do. They won't understand.

He believes me - believes **in** me. He mustn't. For his own sake he's got to think I'm guilty. Then he can blame me. Then he won't look for anybody else, won't hurt anybody, kill anybody. Then he'll be safe.

Please help him. You know I don't beg Professor, but I'm begging you now. Put a memory charm on him. Let him hate me, make him wish me dead - anything, absolutely anything. Just don't let him hurt or be hurt.

I'm putting my ring in with this. And his. The guard managed to get it off him before they took him away. They won't let me take them with me. Take care of them for us. I hope one day to collect them in person. With Remus.

Sirius Black

PS. Just one more thing - whatever else you make him forget, let him keep the sunrises. He'll be watching them for us both for a while - maybe a long while. But if there's any way of knowing in there what time it is, then I'll be watching them with him - somehow.~

Albus tipped the two rings into his palm and studied them for a moment. It was such a short time ago. There'd been so many people there, and an atmosphere of carefree joy and celebration, as the two young men declared in public what they had vowed in their hearts years before.

He got up and walked over the Fawkes' perch. He placed the rings, one at each side, and transfigured them into two golden finials with the interwoven topaz and aquamarine symbols set in proud relief. Fawkes eyed the rich additions to his already elaborate perch appreciatively. Albus patted him lightly on the head.

"Now don't get too attached. They're only on loan."

He walked slowly back to his desk and sat down heavily. He felt old. He knew he'd been old for years, but for the first time he actually **felt** it. He took off his glasses and rubbed his face in his two palms. Then he looked at the parchment again. He hated using memory charms. He considered them tantamount to mental rape. However...

"I promise, Sirius." he vowed.

Then, Albus Dumbledore did something he hadn't done in a hundred years. He folded his arms on his desk, lowered his head to rest on them, and wept.

It would be four years before he could keep his promise to Sirius.

~~~~~~~

(Present Day)

Awareness returned slowly to Sirius. And as it did, he gradually became aware of several things.

It was morning ~but it was only mid evening a minute ago~ He was in bed ~how in the hells did he get there then?~ It wasn't **his** bed ~blankets! gah! I fucking **hate** blankets~ He was lying with his head on Remus' chest ~thank the gods **something's right~ He had an erection ~yup! another tick in the 'normal' column~ Remus was asleep ~damnit! but that could soon be remedied~ There was someone else sitting on the bed ~EH????!!!!~**

He shot upright with a panicked gasp. The intruder backed off, both hands raised in apology. Remus muttered and frowned in his sleep at the disturbance, then settled again almost immediately. ~Oh great, some bloody help you'd be in an emergency. My hero, the great protector, when he can be bothered to...~

"Sirius?"

~Harry?~ "Harry!"

He was in a guest room at Hogwarts. ~ah, that explains the blankets then.~

"Sirius, are you okay?"

He considered. Actually, he realised, he did feel alright. He'd slept for the gods only knew how long, no nightmares - in fact no dreams at all, and he felt relaxed, calm and...hang on a minute. That wasn't right. After the news they'd had last night...that devious old bastard! He'd put them to bed with enough comfort charms to knock out a...he glanced down at his slumbering mate...well, a werewolf and...oh gods, he hadn't undressed them too, had he? Well, that took pretty quick care of the erection problem, which pretty much negated the how to wake Remus problem - ah, but that was never really a problem now, was it?

He chuckled, then remembered Harry was still there. He ran a hand through the top of his hair, brushing it back from his face and brow.

"No...I mean...yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. What's up love? What time is is?" ~What day **is it?~**

"Erm, about nine o'clock, and nothing's up. Not really. I just wanted to check on you y'know? After Dumbledore and...well, y'know." Harry was concerned about them, Sirius could tell, but there was something more. Sirius patted the bed beside him and Harry sat back down.

"C'mon, H. Tell me."

Harry looked down at his hands for a minute, picking at a hangnail and biting his lip. When he looked up, Sirius was smiling at him encouragingly.

"Well?"

"Sirius I...it's...have you ever kept any secrets from Remus?"

Sirius quirked an eyebrow and grinned in a duh!! **fashion at Harry.**

"No. No, I don't mean that **. I mean..."**

"Jared," came a sleep-laden voice from the other side of them. They both started slightly at the unexpected sound, as Remus yawned and stretched, arching his back - accompanied by a slight moan from Sirius. ~Oh thanks, Rem. You're awake, I'm now as hard as I was two minutes ago - no, harder - now, how do we deal with the Harry **problem?~ Remus pulled himself into a sitting position, bestowing a quick kiss and a muttered "Morning, love" upon his rearoused mate.**

"Jared?" asked Harry. "Who's Jared?"

"I am." And Remus smiled at Harry as though that solved everything.

"But, your name's Remus...isn't it? Remus J. Lupin?"

Harry suddenly realised that he'd never known what the 'J' stood for.

"It is. The 'J' was bestowed upon me by your ever-loving godfather on the occasion of my 21st birthday. I don't actually have a middle name. It's partly your fault actually. He got it from a baby book your parents had."

"Oh. But...why Jared?"

Sirius took over. "Well, you see, we'd been looking up names for you all the way through Lily's pregnancy. And this one night we all looked up our own names, to find the meanings, y'know?"

Harry nodded.

"Anyhow, mine wasn't in. We'd looked up 'Peter' and 'Remus' and 'James', and then I saw it - Jared. It was perfect. But of course I couldn't tell him."

"Why not?"

"Well, when we were younger, Remus was a bit...sensitive about...some things. He...well he knew he was gay. He didn't have a problem with that, but with his build and his looks, well..."

Remus sighed. "I was called a 'pretty' boy. All the damn time. A china doll, a little girl. It pissed me off sometimes. Anyway, Sirius..."

"Well, I never thought that. I always thought that the was stunningly beautiful, but in a strong, proud, infinitely masculine way. So, I adopted the 'Jared' for him, and kept it to myself. Then on his 21st I bought him a suitcase because his other one had fallen apart. Now, he was always going to be a teacher, but never doing a damn thing about it, so I had the plate engraved 'Professor R.J. Lupin'. Thought it looked good..." he shrugged.

"It did," put in Remus, "but when I asked him what the 'J' stood for, he wouldn't tell me. Not for ages."

"You'd have fucking hung me out to dry, that's why. I was rather partial to keeping all of my limbs, thank you very much. So, Harry, I decided on 'Jared' because the meanings of the two names pretty much summed up how I felt - feel - about him. But there's no getting away from the fact that it is **damned..." he shrugged in resignation.**

"Girly!" growled Remus, but he was smiling.

"Ah but love, you know I never thought that of you. Gods, if there'd ever **been any doubt, you more than proved just how** un **girly you were. Pretty much any spare minute. I spent weeks walking around like my spine had fused."**

"You loved it. Every time, every place."

"Still do, angel. Remember that time Lily dared us to do it in the staffroom? In that large wardrobe?"

"Hey, hang on!" mock-protested Harry, "Not in front of delicate ears!"

Both men snorted in derision. Then Harry thought of something.

"Wardrobe? In the staffroom? The one you dragged us to the first lesson we had you? The boggart **wardrobe?"**

Remus shrugged. "What can I say? I may have thought Siri was guilty, but I never stopped loving him. And a good memory is always a good memory. Although, just for a minute, I did wonder whether my own boggart may have changed form to that of your terminally intoxicating, murdering godfather. I don't know..." he sobered for a moment, a slight faraway look in his eyes, "maybe I wanted **to see..." He shook his head and laughed, a little self-consciously. Harry came to his aid.**

"I remember feeling slightly pissed at you for not letting me have a go at it. Of course, once you explained, I understood. Seeing Voldemort or a dementor coming out of there...well...Don't you think Sirius?"

Sirius winced and flushed bright red. "Well...I suppose...erm..."

"Sirius' boggart isn't a dementor, Harry. At least it wasn't. We haven't seen one in years so it could be now I suppose. And it wasn't Voldemort either."

Something in his godfather's red-faced stumbling, and the boyish, mischievous amusement in Remus' suddenly delighted expression as he shot Sirius a sly sideways grin made Harry ask.

"Well, what was it?"

Sirius squirmed and went even redder. He muttered something inaudible and Remus started to laugh.

"What?"

Remus laughed harder. Harry could actually see tears forming in his eyes. It was infectious. Harry began to giggle.

"What? Tell me!"

"S-s-siriu-u-s' b-b-boggart was...w...was..."

He couldn't. He wanted to but he just couldn't. It was taking all of his time and effort to remember to breathe between the peals of laughter that threatened to suffocate him. He waved a hand helplessly.

Sirius glared at him with a face like thunder, lightning flashing behind the blue orbs. But in spite of himself, his lips had started to twitch in betrayal, quirking upwards. It was so rare to see Remus truly lose himself like this nowadays. And after last night he needed, they both needed, to grab onto these moments whenever the opportunity presented itself. And Remus looked truly wonderful. No, he couldn't be really angry. Not now. Not yet. Remus would **pay though. Later.**

Beginning to laugh himself now, he turned his gaze to Harry.

"Sirius?"

He sighed in embarrassed defeat, and told him. This had the effect of sending Remus into even deeper convulsions and seemingly rendering Harry stone deaf.

"What?!!"

"I said. My boggart. Was. Albus. Dumbledore."

The room exploded with mirth.

It took a good ten minutes before enough composure and decorum could return. Sirius loved moments like these. They reminded him so much of the times of their youth, when days seemed endless and golden, and they had been invincible - all four of them (well, five if you counted Lily, and you had **to include Lily). Inevitable thoughts of Peter brought him back to earth, although he was still chuckling as he took Harry's hand in one of his own and hugged Remus to him with the other arm.**

His boys. No - his men.

"Sorry, H. Sorry. We got distracted. So what's this about secrets? Trouble with the divine Ginny?"

Harry grimaced, looking a little embarrassed. "Well, probably not, actually. It's probably just me. It's just..." he fished in his brain for the right words, "I just get the impression that...that there's something she's not...telling me."

Remus reached over and took Harry's other hand. "Harry, love. Much as we love you, son of our hearts, we're not exactly experts on women and their ways. Practically our only point of reference is your mum. However, I can tell you that she was constantly **keeping secrets from your dad."**

"Really?"

"All the time. But it never turned out to be anything bad."

"Oh, no," agreed Sirius, "whenever she had a problem with him, she let him have it. Right between the eyes. Both barrels!"

Harry chuckled, wishing, but without melancholy, that could have seen 'The Tigress', as Remus and Sirius had informed him they'd nicknamed her, in full feminine flow. Sometimes, when people spoke of his parents, he would go away afterwards and wallow for a while in morbid sentimentality. Remus and Sirius, however, had always possessed the ability to enrich their tales with such love, humour and vitality, that Harry felt warm and uplifted at their telling, closer somehow to his two devoted parents, and closer too to their two best friends who he looked upon as the fathers of his heart as much as he was the son of theirs. He felt no guilt over this since it in no way diminished or supplanted the love he had for James and Lily. Indeed, that love couldn't **diminish since it was shared, nurtured and protected by the two men now sitting before him.**

"I...I...want to ask her to marry me y'know. Do you think...?

"Harry, if you're asking for our approval, there's no need. You know you have that." Remus nodded, smiling at Sirius' words. "And naturally, with our approval goes our blessing. We love you. We want the best for you. And Ginny is one of the best. You know my motto..."

"Nil Satis Nisi Optimum." finished Harry, quoting the motto of Sirius' favourite Muggle soccer team. He had an irrepressible passion for the game.

"That's right. 'Nothing but the best is good enough'." Sirius translated unnecessarily, smiling adoringly at Remus and meeting his lips with his own in a fleeting kiss. "I got the best, and we both want that for you, too."

"Don't you think we're a bit...young?"

"Harry, when it's right, it's right. And when it's right, you've got to grab it tight with both hands and never let it get away from you." Sirius reassured him. "Look at Ron and Hermione. They're only twenty. Your mum and dad were even younger. Remus and I were seventeen."

"I thought you were twenty-one," interrupted Harry, puzzled.

"That was our handfasting." enlightened Remus. "That was for our friends, our loved ones. Our 'real' marriage took place on Sirius' 17th birthday. That's when we made our promises to each other, in private, just between us. Our handfasting vows were binding, and we meant every word we said. But our 'true' vows are deeper, more sacred to us both. They were never meant for anybody but us, and nobody else will every hear them."

There was a silence in the room for a while which seemed almost holy. Remus and Sirius were locked into each other, remembering the fervent, heartfelt words of two seventeen year old boys who'd just discovered the meaning of 'home' and could see no reason why they could not stay there forever. The look that passed between them made Harry feel like an interloper - a gatecrasher. He stood as quietly as he could.

"Erm, sorry, but I forgot to say. Dumbledore wants to see us at 11.30 in his office." He turned to go then was hit by a burst of sudden curiosity.

"So, what does Remus' name mean, then?"

Sirius faced his godson. When he spoke it was without the slightest hint of embarrassment or amusement.

"'Remus' means 'fair', 'Jared' means 'rose'."

Remus had been right. It was **girly. By rights, Harry should have been laughing fit to burst. But he wasn't and he had not the slightest inclination to do so. He knew what the two men meant to each other, and if Sirius could be Remus' bright star, then fair rose seemed somehow appropriate. He nodded in mute approval.**

~~~~~~~

Peter couldn't concentrate. Well, lately that was hardly anything new, but what she'd said...disturbed him. How in the deepest hells did she know Remus?

He'd only arrived at the manor house a week before, one of the few survivors from the attack on the West Yorkshire site.

Funny how he'd always managed to survive life's little setbacks, wasn't it? Funny that when so many others had succumbed.

Lucius Malfoy and his snot-nosed brat of a son. Walden Macnair, who'd died crying for mercy like a baby. Craig Trevallyan, who'd taken the coward's way out. Voldemort himself, defeated by a bunch of children.

James and Lily Potter

Sirius and Remus. Oh yes, they'd survived, after a fashion. But they were damaged. Raw. Hurt.

It shouldn't have happened. Lily had relatives she could have trusted. It shouldn't have been him. He didn't think it would **be him. Sirius had suggested, demanded it, forced him into it. He couldn't refuse.**

And when Voldemort had...asked...he couldn't refuse that either.

He'd trusted them. Trusted them all.

Trusted James and Lily to pick someone else. To just disappear with Harry. They hadn't.

Trusted Sirius to go with them. To be safe. He hadn't.

Trusted Voldemort to keep his promise. To give him Remus. He hadn't. He'd just laughed and said that he **had better use for a mated, mateless werewolf. Even when he'd returned, his gift for his servant's loyalty and obedience had been cruel mockery.**

A hand. A new hand. A SILVER hand.

Peter had thought that Voldemort would remember his old promise. He did. And with his...reward...Peter had known that his master's answer was still the same.

Remus would never be his to hold.

He'd seen what holding Remus would do to him. Seen it on the blackened, blistered, bleeding flesh of a young girl.

He'd seen what making love to - fucking - raping - an already mated werewolf would do. He'd seen it in the pairs of dead eyes that, although dead and unseeing, still managed to accuse and condemn every time he entered the room. He'd seen it in the lethargy and abject apathy that could only be stirred by the presence of silver.

They used to have to sedate the female werewolves. No longer. Oh, they still screamed at the full moon's physical caresses. But they no longer fought, no longer snarled, no longer howled and bayed for blood. They hadn't had to sedate the females, he'd been told, in over a year.

He knew Remus was coming. He'd known that from the instant she'd spoken his name, even if he didn't know who she was.

He knew Remus wouldn't have dead eyes. He knew Remus wouldn't have filthy, matted, dead hair. He knew Remus wouldn't be a pathetic, unresponsive shadow. He knew Remus wouldn't love him the way he'd wanted for so long. He knew Remus would never be his. He finally admitted Remus could **never be his. He knew Remus wouldn't be alone. He knew Sirius was coming.**

And Peter was afraid.

~~~~~~~

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Remus and Sirius stood outside Albus Dumbledore's office door. The joint memory of this stage of their last visit made both men exchange impish grins before Remus knocked and entered the room.

They had expected to see Harry. They hadn't expected to see four Weasleys - no, five since Hermione was there too -, Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape there as well.

Remus' step nearly faltered, and his eyes widened almost imperceptively at the sight. Then he felt Sirius' warm, broad hand against the small of his back, and regained his composure. The two men smiled in greeting. The lingering effects of Albus' calming charms allowed them to remain sociable and affable for the time being.

"Is this a private party or...?" began Sirius, before being interrupted by twin cries of pleasure as twin red heads attached to twin bodies sprang to twin pairs of feet before executing twin deep bows of reverence and homage.

Fred spoke. "Messrs. Moony and Padfoot. My brother and I, though woefully undeserving, would deem it a pleasure, nay an honour, nay the realisation of a lifetime's ambition, if two living legends such as your esteemed and august selves, would deign to sit between us."

Both twins bowed from the waist again, oblivious to the titters which ran round the rest of the room's occupants, and indicated the chairs in question. Remus gave a half-smile and a polite inclination of his head.

"Mr. Moony acknowledges the abeisance of his and Mr. Padfoot's resident appreciation society, and feels he can answer for both himself and Mr. Padfoot in accepting the kind invitation graciously, as was ever, if he may make so bold, his wont."

"However," continued Sirius, "Mr. Padfoot would like to voice his very real concern with regards to what said appreciation socity may have done with malice aforethought to the seats."

He growled at the grinning twins and turned with a quirked, enquiring eyebrow to his mate. His heart melted anew. He loved it when Remus joined in with the banter, which he did so effortlessly.

Remus was smiling fully now, his captivating eyes sparkling with amusement at the incorrigible twosome as he offered an elegant hand in mock condescention for each twin to bend the knee before and kiss.

"Mr. Moony notes Mr. Padfoot's concerns with gratitude, but would like to point out that They. Wouldn't. Dare." Now Remus growled in feigned ferocity, then smiled regally as he and Sirius approached the chairs upon which - after Fred and George had dusted the seats with their robes - they sat, gingerly. Remus was right - they didn't **dare.**

They sat like mirror images, Remus with his left foot resting atop his right knee, Sirius right foot atop left. He took hold of Remus' hand and held it between his own in his lap. Both were feeling refreshed after their long sleep, lazy bout of lovemaking after Harry had left them, and shared bath which had included another, not lazy at all, bout of lovemaking. They wore their customary Muggle attire; loose shirts tucked into tight, tight jeans which seemed sprayed onto long, firm, muscled calfs and thighs.

Hermione and Ginny simultaneously and spontaneously suppressed momentary pangs. ~Gods and goddesses, didn't they know **the effect they both had on the ordinary witch? Didn't they** care **?~ The two women exchanged rueful, wistful glances ~what a sodding waste to womankind~. Hermione was just having a sinful thought about sinking her teeth into Sirius' buttocks - or pretty much any part of him, really, when both were sharply pulled back into the here and now; Ginny with a sharp dig to the ribs and a softly muttered "Oi!" from Harry; Hermione by Ron reaching under her hair and tugging hard at the sensitive bit at the nape.**

They all turned their attention to Dumbledore's desk, where Albus had cleared his throat to begin.

"Right. Now we're all settled. You know about the assignment. This estate and one other on Dartmoor, are all that remain of a project set up shortly before Voldemort's final downfall, the ultimate aim of which we have yet to discover.

Just over three years ago, lycanthropic women of childbearing age began going missing. We had suspected Voldemort's hand in this, but proving the fact, and locating the women, has been a most difficult task. The Ministry..." and here Sirius growled and muttered something that sounded like "Pricks!" Albut continued unperturbed, "...has been loathe to act on unfounded rumour..."

"And after all, they were only werewolf bitches!" snapped Remus. Unaccustomed to his acerbic tone, most of the room looked at him in surprise. Sirius beamed at him with pride.

"Quite, Remus. I fully concur with your sentiment, but if I may...?" Albus waited for a brief moment and then continued. "The abductions ceased on Voldemort's death, but none of the women has ever been recovered. They were eventually traced to twelve estates. These estates were owned by Death Eaters and, as such, should have been subject to routine inspections. They were not." Albus' eyes flashed blue fire for a moment. ~So that's why he was angry yesterday~ thought Remus.

"Ten of the twelve estates have been 'closed down' due to the Minstry finally **acting on concrete information. They liaised with Muggle authorities and carried out simultaneous lightning attacks ten days ago. There was no warning and the estates were razed to the ground following air bombardments."**

"And the women?" asked Sirius, although he felt sure, sickeningly sure, that he already knew the answer. He squeezed Remus' hand tighter.

Albus looked him in the eye intently. "There was no warning," he repeated slowly, "and Sirius, as you so eloquently stated yesterday, they were all **'fucking breeding kennels'."**

"Children, too?" Sirius should have expected this, but it left him staggered.

Albus nodded sadly. Sirius turned his head to look at Remus. He was sitting motionless, statue-like, his expression completely shuttered.

"But..." Ron began, "why would they have left these two estates alone? Surely the Death Eaters would..."

"The Death Eaters that remain believe that these two estates are as yet uncompromised. We have it on good authority that the women and children are still, as yet, unharmed. We..."

"Unharmed?" Remus stared in blatent disbelief round the room and finally at the headmaster. Nobody interrupted him. He give a mirthless laugh. "Unharmed, Albus? You really think so? Shall I tell you just how 'unharmed' they'll be? It's a breeding facility, Albus, a puppy farm. Those women, those who didn't already have **mates, would have been bonded,** life **bonded, gods help them, with the first fucking Death Eater who rammed his filthy cock into them. And how many more would've come after the first? Because every last, lousy, diseased, damned piece of scum that did would've driven another nail into their coffins. And the children? The babies? The** cubs **? Well, let's hope, let's just damn well hope that** somehow **their fathers are their mothers' true mates because otherwise, they'll be rejected. No werewolf dam will suckle a child that's not her mate's. It may have happened it ancient times to Rome's founders. It may still happen with true wolves. But this is not some romantic fantasy. This is real life. They are not true wolves. They are werewolves, and..."**

"You're forgetting something else, Albus." Sirius interrupted his lover with another, apologetic, squeeze to the hand. He stood up and started to pace the room. "You're referring to them as 'women'. Well, we know they're not all **women. Some at least are children - or were when they were taken.**

We were going to take Tamar to live with us, y'know? She was thirteen years old, Voldemort was about to be sent back to whichever special hell was created for him, our war was over. We'd even decorated her fucking bedroom. We were that close, thatdamnedclose **to taking her home. Because at last, after years of being the Ministry's whores we could relax. Rest. Fucking** live **.**

But they took her. And the Ministry didn't give a flying fuck. We were going to tell her, the day she was taken. Me and Remus and Harry. We were going to Bella's to see her and tell her that she was coming home. To live with us." He could feel his eyes filling and a lump starting to form in his throat. No! He mustn't crack now. He had more to say.

"We never asked for a thing, not one fucking thing, from the Ministry. What was the point? They'd never acknowledge Remus. So we just accepted it. But this once, just this once, we asked them for help. And they turned their backs. So we said, fuck 'em. Fuck the whole damn lot of them. Smug, selfish, narrow, self-officious arrogant little pricks. Fuck 'em all. And who found her, Albus? Because I'd bet Remus' life that it wasn't the damn fucking Ministry!"

Sirius finally cracked. Tears coursing down his cheeks, he turned blindly, searching for Remus. And Remus was there. Waiting. Always. Just like he promised. The two men, both crying openly, fell into each other's arms, holding onto each other, each seeking and receiving comfort from the only one who could provide it. They sank into Remus' chair, oblivious to the world.

Albus watched them sorrowfully for a moment before turning his all- encompassing gaze to the rest of the room. Everyone was visibly, deeply affected. Minerva McGonagall was wiping tears from her eyes. Harry was gazing in panic and concern at Remus and Sirius. Ginny and Hermione were both openly sobbing. Ron was white and swallowing convulsively, as was Snape. Neville looked as though he was about to be sick. The Weasley twins were looking straight at Dumbledore, their faces identical masks of misery. And there was something inherently, obscenely wrong about a miserable Weasley twin.

Albus swallowed the lump in his own throat and spoke quietly but clearly.

"Sirius is correct. Tamar was located by one of our own sources. He is also correct in that the treatment meted out to him and to Remus has been beyond reprehensible. Which is why I have used my...influence in this matter.

The Ministry is fully aware of the existence of the two remaining estates. They are formulating a strategy to attack both, using the same methods as before. I have...convinced them to hold off so that we can launch a rescue attempt. There is a group ready and waiting to attack the house on Dartmoor. You will concern your own efforts with this other. We do not have long."

He paused to let the information sink in. Neville was the first to break the silence.

"Okay. We can get them out. What then? Where do we take them?"

"There is a safe area - here." Dumbledore Summoned a map of Scotland which floated rigidly before him, and he indicated a small area to the east with his wand. "The mothers and children are to be Apparated there in groups. Hagrid will be waiting to meet you along with a team of mediwizards which I have personally handpicked. Now that Charlie Weasley is taking over the post of Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid is delighted to be able to realise one of his dreams and raise werecubs.

Tamar, however, is to be brought here. It is nearly the end of the school year and Madam Pomfrey will be able to provide her with the degree of care and undivided attention that I feel we owe to Sirius and Remus."

"But, who is she?" hissed Neville, glancing over at the two men, who had stopped their heart-twisting sobs and were now stroking each other's hair and faces, whispering soothing endearments and platitudes at each other. Albus looked at Harry.

Harry bit his lip. "Well, she's Remus' really, although because they're together, Sirius says she's his as well." He looked over at Remus and Sirius. "She's their sister. Sort of."

"What the hell do you mean by 'sort of'?"

~~~~~~~

Well, what do you know! Ask and ye shall receive, Percy thought wryly. Only yesterday he'd wished for warder duty. And today he'd been given it.

Granted, it was only to take the werewolves their lunch. Such as it was. Not that many of them had the inclination to eat. Even those who were aware of the existance of the gelatinous glop which passed for food.

He'd tried to get some response from the first few. A friendly, reassuring smile, a few words in an attempt to comfort, a pat on an immobile arm, a gentle touch to a marble cheek. But it had been futile. He'd all but given up.

Until he'd arrived at bed number 16. He knew who this was. This one was the reason for him risking everything in order to get word to his father.

Tamar. No family name. Just Tamar.

They'd been looking for her for ages and, irony of the gods, she turns up right under his nose. Mind you, he'd never have recognised her face. It was just the name on the list that he'd seen in the office.

Bed:16 Name: Tamar Menses: N/A Yield: N/A

She hadn't even started menstruating yet. ~All the gods, which sick fuck got his rocks off by snatching a child **?~ and the cold term 'yield' made his gut clench. It was a Muggle term in this context. Percy thought of battery hens.**

As he neared the bed he realised that, much as he knew of her as yet inactive reproduction cycle, ~and given the starvation rations, how did they expect it to ever become active **?~, he'd never seen her face.**

Percy had never been known for his curiosity, but he gave into it now. He edged up the narrow gap between Tamar's bed and the one next to it, ~Bed:17 Name: Connolly, Sarah Menses: 4/52 Yield: 1 Male~ and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, moving slowly and gently in an effort not to startle her ~well, you never know, she might* react~.

He edged the worn blanket away from the thin shoulders.

And was instantly running for the corridor, the bile rushing to his throat. He was violently and copiously sick in a corner, and when his stomach could void no more, he continued retching and baulking drily, painfully. His stomach ached with exertion, his red hair plastered to his forehead and prickly scalp, curls flattened. Sweat ran down his face.

~Oh no. Oh shit. Oh hells~

He finally groaned and leaned his sweating forehead against the cool plaster of the wall, glasses held limply in numb fingers. He closed his eyes, then immediately opened them again.

He saw the burns, the decaying, cracked black skin on her neck, her shoulders, the top of her skinny child's chest.

He saw the cuts and bruises on her ethereal child's face.

He heard the raspy, forced breath, dragged through an airway ravaged by acid.

Silver acid.

He knew who'd done it. He could make out the finger marks. Pettigrew. Another of the gods' ironic little twists.

Damn, but he hoped Albus Dumbledore would send Remus and Sirius. He wanted to be there when they saw. Then he wanted to be there when they met up with Pettigrew. Hells, he'd deliver him up to them himself. He'd even clean up afterwards.

It would be worth it.

Because he'd seen her eyes. He'd seen them before. Last time, he'd been a despicable, craven, fucking coward. ~Gryffindor? Don't make me laugh!~ He'd frozen, unable to help, hidden but seeing, safe. He hadn't laughed since that day, because the murdering slime had stolen his laughter from him.

He'd seen Tamar's eyes before. They'd been dull blue then though, not dull gold.

They'd been Penny's eyes.


	5. 04

(12 years ago)

Remus woke with a bone-melting cry of ecstasy as he reached out his arms to gather Sirius to him...and moaned as his arms closed on empty air before he drew them back again limply towards his heaving, sweat-sheened chest. He rolled fully onto his back, eyes still closed, refusing for as long as he could to relinquish his dream, his vision, his highest of heavens, his deepest of hells.

He could still 'feel' Sirius in him and he moaned again, his head arching back and his hips moving in blind rhythm to meet the phantom thrusts. He looked up in his mind, into those eyes which his memory could always see. They were burning down on him now, infusing him with their light, sending their fire to the deepest recesses of his bereft soul, casting out all shadows.

Remus warmed himself in that blessed cursed radiance. His mind told his skin that it could feel the satin softness of thick midnight hair as it brushed against his cheeks, shoulders and collarbones. He lifted his hands again to plunge them into the ebony depths. Then he felt Sirius lift away from him, felt him leave his body altogether and float upwards towards the sky, beyond his reach once more, as he always was in the waking hours.

"Come back to me," he sobbed in his mind, although all that escaped his lips was a moaned whisper.

But Sirius just smiled at him as he drifted higher and higher, smaller and smaller, until all Remus could see were the twin stars which were his eyes. And gradually, those twin stars were so far away that their dual lights fused into a single entity, which still seemed to smile down at Remus from its long tether to Orion's belt. Finally, as always, Remus heard Sirius' words.

"I love you. Wait for me."

"I love you. Always." he whispered back, one hand still reaching for the unreachable.

"Love you too, Remy."

In spite of his misery he smiled. He opened his eyes and turned his head towards the owner of the voice. Huge brown eyes, which would begin to turn gold at the next moon - her first - gazed back at him from a cherubic face complete with the cutest button nose and rosebud mouth.

Able to hide the ache in his heart ~I'll see you again tonight, my love. Please be safe~, Remus reached out a hand and ruffled the chocolate coloured wavy hair before chucking her gently under the chin.

"Good morning, little one. Did you sleep well?"

"My arm still hurts." There was no petulance in the reply, just a statement of a simple fact.

"Climb up here with me, and let's take a look."

"Will you make it better, Remy?"

"That's what I'm here for, sweetheart. Come on." He patted the bed beside him, grateful that he'd begun wearing underwear in bed so he didn't have to make her wait while he cleaned up the physical results of his dream and instead could instantly invite the little more than a toddler to scramble up beside him, which she did, waving off the hand which he held out to assist her climb. As soon as she was in a position to do so, she flung her chubby arms around his neck, smothering his face with baby sweet kisses. He allowed himself to wallow in her adoration for a short while before prising the arms from around him and holding her away from him slightly.

"Where does it hurt, sweet?"

"Where the wolf bited me 'course!"

"Of course! Aren't I silly?" He mock tutted and rolled his eyes, slapping his forehead with the heel of one hand.

She giggled, a light innocent sound that only a small child can make. It reminded Remus of a stream rippling over stones and he smiled again, but his thoughts were a maelstrom of sorrow. ~I'm so sorry, little one. If only I had got to you sooner. So little, so innocent and already so hurt. And this, my sweet was only the overture~.

He'd been searching for a particular werewolf for over a year. It had taken a while to trace through dusty archives in what had seemed an interminable progression of Ministry department after Ministry department. He'd known Albus Dumbledore had helped open doors for him which would otherwise have been slammed in his face, and he'd started his search as soon a Poppy Pomfrey had finally pronounced him as fit as he ever would be.

It had taken him a long time to recover. He remembered blessed little about his four years in the Detention Centre. All he had were vague, hazy flashes, impressions really, of intense heat, numbing cold, hunger, pain, over-resticted movement and always, always a terrible apathetic nausea. Albus had told him later that he'd been kept poleaxed by the liberal dosings of wolfsbane which he had forceably ingested.

He had eventually become semi-aware through the drugged miasma of somebody gently removing his shackles one day and of peering dazedly up into a pair of blue eyes. "Sirius," he'd breathed, and he had tried to smile for him but couldn't. And then, even in his befuddled, half-dead state he'd realised that he'd been mistaken. The scent, while pleasant, was not right. And the eyes were a soft, concerned forget-me-not blue, not the dazzling icy aquamarine of his mate. He had sighed then and had permitted Albus to carry him with a strength which, had he been more lucid, would have amazed him. Emaciated as he was, he was still a grown man of twenty six. He could not have summoned the awareness then to realise that at least a part of Albus' strength was forged in anger. Anger at the sight of the semi-comatose wreck that had met his vision. The Detention Centre had been closed down permanently shortly after that. Remus hadn't been aware that the Ministry had even **had** an official limit of permitted cruelty to Dark Creatures.

Albus had insisted on a long recuperation after the physical signs of his caged torment had gone. It had been almost a year before he had sanctioned and abetted Remus' search. Now, two years after his liberation, his hair had grown back, albeit with the grimly ironic - to Remus - addition of silver grey strands, he had filled out, although he would always be slim, and his muscle tone had returned. The only visible signs of his torment were the slightly empty look deep within the depths of the expressive golden topaz eyes, as though something integral which had once dwelt there had been removed, and the mark on his inner thigh; the brand which had been burned into him at the Detention Centre. His number. Another badge of his lycanthropy.

The dreams had started about a month after his rescue, once the brain-numbing effects of the wolfsbane had almost completely worn off. He had accepted them as penance for his continued love of the man who had betrayed them all; the man who, in spite of everything he had done, Remus longed for with all of his being. Hadn't there been a discarded, betrayed Muggle queen once who'd written to her treacherous husband 'mine eyes desire to see you, above all things'? Or something like that. He knew he was bound to Sirius by his condition. He also knew that what he felt for his mate so far surpassed that obligation as to virtually negate it. He **ached** for Sirius' presence, Sirius' touch, Sirius' voice with a longing that left him breathless. And he not only accepted the dreams, he welcomed them. He called to them and grasped them to him each night until they slipped away again like sand through an hourglass every morning.

Remus had initially decided upon his search as a way to occupy his mind. He really hadn't expected to be successful. In this he had underestimated both his own single-minded determination and also the help he would receive from his former headmaster, almost as though Albus had felt he owed it to him for an unknown trespass.

His books had ceased to provide any interest for him, and whenever he came across a passage which he remembered reading aloud to Sirius - and there had been many -, or found annotations in the margins in his mate's handwriting, he had initially been too raw to manage the overpowering influx of sorrow. So, he'd poured all of his underused time and energy into finding one man.

Neil Rogan. Such an ordinary, unremarkable name for the man who had completely and irrevocably changed his life so long ago, much as Sirius had. But where Sirius' gifts had been warmth and friendship, love and understanding, at least until..., Neil Rogan had only given fear and pain, suspicion and loathing. Neil Rogan was Remus' sire, the man who had birthed the werewolf.

Once Remus' quest for knowledge was complete, he'd made plans to leave Hogwarts and the ever-concerned, well-meaning but suffocating care of Poppy Pomfrey, to hunt Neil Rogan down. He'd made no secret of his intent and was only mildly surprised when Albus had made no effort to prevent or delay him. What surprised him more, given the length of time the research had taken, was the ease and speed with which a name on a piece of parchment had taken flesh and blood form before his eyes.

It had been the blood which had drawn him. The smell of blood on the mid morning air and the tingling deep within his own blood as it recognised and eagerly responded to the proximity of kin. It drew him in as certainly as Ariadne's skein of wool had led Theseus from the Minotaur's maze, only in reverse, for it was Remus' demon that held the other end, and this demon still demanded the taste of human flesh.

"You are the first of my making to seek me out." Neil Rogan sat before him at the table and looked him up and down appraisingly. "But not, I think, the first to seek to kill me."

He raised his golden gaze to Remus, who met it steadily for a moment, then a chill of recognition and remembrance ran down his spine. Instinctively, he broke eye contact first, as befits a submissive wolf before his Alpha.

"You know I seek to kill you?" he asked, his tone more even and controlled than his emotions. A quiet chuckle made him raise his eyes again.

"As I would you, were our roles reversed." He wasn't old for a wizard, probably no older than McGonagall. But Neil Rogan had been an ordinary Muggle before receiving his bite, and while he had inherited the werewolf strength and speed, he was past peak condition. Both men knew which of them would be faster, stronger, which would prevail. It seemed to take the need for conflict from them both, and now here they were, getting to know each other over a civilised cup of tea.

"Where is your pack?" Rogan actually seemed interested.

"I have no pack." Remus would not volunteer information, but that did not preclude him from answering direct questions.

"You are too old to be a lone wolf, too young for your pack to have grown and left willingly. Why do you have no pack? No mate?"

"I had a pack. I have a mate."

"Where are they?"

"My pack is dead. My mate is taken from me." Remus thought he had kept his face impassive, blank, as bland as his words, but something must have caught Rogan's attention.

"Why is your mate taken?"

"He killed my pack." Rogan's eyebrows quirked slightly. Remus suspected it was more because of the gender of his mate than Sirius' actions.

"Then you are not a sire?"

"No. Neither by birth nor creation." Remus did not think it necessary to inform Rogan that he had been sterilised without his consent during his detention.

"I have created many." There was neither pride nor remorse in Rogan's voice. It was simply a statement, as was Remus's response.

"You know you will create no more." Rogan sighed.

"I know. I do not regret it. You came for vengence, but will now become my salvation." He smiled wearily at Remus' now far from blank expression.

"I am tired, Remus Lupin. My mate was slain at the last moon. We hunted and found a witch and a wizard. Camping in known werewolf territory with no wards for protection." He gave a grimace of disgust. "The man died easily. The woman...eventually. But even as she died, my mate breathed her last." He looked back into Remus' eyes. "Silver," he whispered. "The woman carried silver, and we did not sense it until it was too late."

In spite of himself, Remus shuddered and closed his eyes, as though the word itself held the power to weaken him. It would have been a painful death.

Rogan continued. "Will you bury me with her?"

"I will," Remus nodded. Rogan was dying without his mate anyway.

"Thank you. Will they bury you with your mate?"

"I don't know. Probably not. However, when he dies I will know and I will follow him within the hour. Where they bury us will not matter."

"You have courage."

Remus smiled wryly and shook his head. "I have silver." He thought of the dagger, thickly encased in dragonhide, which was lying at the bottom of his pack.

"And if your soul departs before his?"

Remus shrugged. "He will know. He will follow when he can. I will wait for him."

They sat in silence for a while, almost companionable. Remus had wanted to hate Neil Rogan, but found that, while he could never countenance embracing or condoning his sire's lifestyle, surrendering to the wolf and all its primal ferocity, obeying every one of it's vicious urges and directives, he felt something almost akin to pity for the broken man with the shattered life bond. He had confronted his Minotaur and found a travesty, both of man and beast. And with what Sirius had done, could he be hypocrite enough to love his mate with such fervour and passion, and counter that with an equal hatred for his sire?

"Are you ready?" Rogan's voice brought Remus back from his reverie. He stood and nodded. Rogan stood as well. "I will take you to where she is."

The two men walked in silence out of Rogan's back door and down the garden. They paused at the gate only long enough for Rogan to open it and pick up an axe which was lying next to it against the wall. He turned and handed it wordlessly to Remus who took it, noting that the blade had been sharpened to what appeared to be a hair-splitting keenness. ~He was expecting me. My blood called to him as much as his to mine. He has planned this~.

Outside the gate there was a footpath, and beyond that a bank which led down to a river. Rogan led Remus off to the right, the bank growing wider and wider all the time. Eventually, the bank was deep enough to support a small stand of willows, and it was through their green curtain that Rogan directed their steps. Then he stopped and knelt down at a stretch of recently disturbed earth.

At that moment Remus resented his sire. Resented him for his physical closeness to his mate and the imminence of their reunion. He resented him his ability to visit a packmate's grave. He would be dead before Sirius was in his grave, Peter had no grave and, as a dark creature, he would never be able to set foot on the consecrated earth that cradled James and Lily in sleep, just as he had been unable to attend their wedding ceremony and Harry's baptism. He hadn't minded then, and had more than made up for it at the parties afterwards. After all, Lily had had to placate her relatives, half of whom didn't even know she was a witch, let alone that one of her closest friends was a werewolf.

Remus stepped up slowly behind his sire, taking deep breaths to steady his thumping heart. He had killed before - during the war they **all** had, but this - this was different. This was more like an assisted suicide, a mercy killing. It was also patricide.

He placed his hands on Neil Rogan, right hand on his shoulder to steady the older man, left hand around his face, cradling his right cheek for a second. He held his breath and closed his eyes, muttering a blessing because it just seemed right somehow. Sheltered beneath the willow curtain, outside sounds oddly muted to an almost reverent level, the sunlight seeping its tendrils through the branches, casting dappled spots of light on the ground, the grave, his sire and his own arms, the light breeze gently caressing the branches around him, whispering Sirius' name, Remus thought that this was the closest he could feel to being in a Muggle place of worship.

"Herne take and protect him." His left hand and arm pulled back, twisting sharply.

It didn't take long to bury Rogan with the aid of magic. The hardest bit had been decapitating him. The axe **had** been sharp and had done the job quickly, efficiently and, thanks to a containment spell, cleanly. Remus just hated the necessity of 'making sure'. He'd buried the axe at his sire's feet.

He'd walked slowly back to the house to collect his pack. Head down, he stepped listlessly through the back door, closed it behind him and leaned back into it, closing his eyes with a sigh.

The creak on the stairs make his eyes spring open again. From where he was standing, he had a clear view through the kitchen's inner door and down the hall towards the front door. Slowly, round the corner of the stair post came a child. A small child.

He closed his eyes again. When he reopened them the small child was still standing there.

"Oh, fuck it!" he breathed.

It had taken three days of coaxing and bribing with sweets before Remus could get the little werewolf to talk. Then it seemed that she got three days worth of her infant prattle into half an hour. Remus learned that she had been sleeping in a big tent when the big wolf had 'bited' her and 'hurted' her neck, and she had cried when she couldn't wake her mummy and daddy. And they had cut themselves and needed a plaster to make it better because she'd tried to kiss it better but they still wouldn't wake up, and they had **awful** big cuts on their tummies and their legs. And then Mister Neil had come in the morning and took her home to his house but she'd been frightened because Mister Neil had tried to be nice but he had smelled scary like the wolf. She told him she was three - while proudly holding up four pudgy fingers in triumph, but he decided to believe her anyway - and that her name was Tamar. Remus had also learned that he was pretty and he smelled nice.

He'd let her chatter while they had made the long journey to Arabella's. To be honest, he doubted his ability to stop her even if he'd wanted to, which he realised he didn't. Right at that moment, the little whirlwind of delight and mischief was sweeping through his misery and into his heart, and she felt good there. By the time they had reached Bella's he was completely enchanted and absolutely besotted by his little pack sister. He had sometimes wondered what a very young Sirius had been like. He thought he'd found the answer in his mate's utterly angelic, infinitely impish, three year old female counterpart. And he'd felt more contentment in those few days of making Tamar's acquaintance than at any time in the previous six years.

So it was that Arabella, who had been expecting a werewolf in the deepest depths of abject depression, albeit one whom she had loved since he was four years old, saw instead when she looked out of her window, one and a half werewolves **skipping** and laughing as they made their way up to her front door before Remus had bent down and swept the little one up into his arms, swinging her round with a huge grin on his face, making her squeal with delight. Arabella had decided there and then that whoever the little miracle was, she loved her.

Remus and Tamar ended up staying with Arabella for six years, with Remus doing odd jobs around the house and the village, and for Albus Dumbledore when needed. They looked after the place for Arabella whenever she'd had to Apparate down to Surrey to look after Harry. The doorbell in her Surrey hom had been spelled to sound in her Scottish house, and Remus had taught Tamar to hold her nose and exclaim, "Aunt Bella, Poo-tunia's at the door!" within a month of their arrival.

Very occasionally Arabella allowed Remus and Tamar to accompany her to Surrey, the only drawback being that she transfigured them both into cats for the duration. Tamar was disgusted but excited by the occasional change in routine. Remus acceded to it only because it meant that he could see Harry, although he suspected that Harry hadn't liked the cats any more than Remus and Tamar did themselves. They had both missed him when he went off to Hogwarts, but they took comfort in the fact that they always had each other.

Arabella considered herself doubly blessed to have the man she'd always looked upon as a son, and the little girl who shared the same improbable first name as her beloved daughter who now dined with the gods, share her home, and Remus was as happy as he felt he could be. He was there for Tamar's first, terrifying transformation, reassuring and soothing as child became cub, so that, although it didn't hurt any less, the pain was somewhat offset by having someone share it. The two wolves played in the warded orchard at the back of Bella's house and then curled up under an apple tree, Moony drawing the cub's tiny body closely to him and curling a paw protectively across her, before they fell asleep.

However, there was always an aching emptiness inside him, and all of the happiness and contentment for which he daily gave thanks could only go part way to assuage it. He had his dreams, always his dreams, and he used to regale Tamar with stories of the four great friends; Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail and Moony. He embellished their adventures with great feats of derring do and in each story, the hero of the day would be the laughing, chivalrous, brave and beautiful Padfoot.

Then came the day when he received two items of mail. One was a letter from Albus Dumbledore, offering him the now vacant post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The other was a clipping from the Daily Prophet. With shaking hands, a roller-coaster in his heart, and eyes that could barely focus, he read: "Sirius Black Escapes from Azkaban".

Early on 31st August, he bid a tearful farewell to Tamar and Arabella, with a fervent promise to be back for the full moons, then he Apparated to Diagon Alley with the suitcase - now sadly a little the worse for wear - that Sirius had bought him for his 21st birthday. There were supplies he'd need, and he would travel up to Hogwarts on the Express, no doubt seeing phantoms all the way of a small, smiling, chubby, childlike boy contemplating a chessboard across the table from a slim brown eyed young man with a shock of unruly black hair and spectacles that wouldn't stay up his nose for more than five minutes. And next to him, a beautiful ebony haired boy with a smile to melt an iceberg and eyes that pierced his soul and burned his heart with the icy fire of life.

~~~~~~~

(Present Day)

Sirius and Remus were relieved to finally get back to the peace and calm of their room. They shut the door then Sirius cast locking spells on it and the windows while Remus muttered silencing charms. It was a habit they had adopted whenever they were away from home, and this being Hogwarts did not excuse it from their routine. They still remembered the siege of three years ago, and the abject terror and disbelief of the wizarding world in general that even these hallowed portals could come under attack.

Remus and Sirius, of course, had tried to warn the Ministry against sanctioning a school reunion at such a precarious time. Remus and Sirius, of course, had been ignored by a Ministry desperate to create the illusion of safety and wellbeing. There had been more lives lost that day than was acceptable by anybody's standards. And of those who had survived, some, like Percy Weasley, had disappeared without trace for a while and others, like Remus and Sirius, had tried to do the same to no avail. If it hadn't been for their vigilance on the day, ably supported by Albus and most of his staff, who had been accused of 'scaremongering' by the likes of Cornelius Fudge and his lackeys, many many more lives would have been lost.

The Ministry, in a fit of conscience, had tried to award the headmaster, his staff and Sirius with special commemorative medals. When they'd realised the one name conspicuous by its absence from the list - "mindful of the laws governing lycanthropes" - they had all, as one, turned down the award. Albus had given serious consideration to having Sirius both compose the letter and hand deliver it to whichever part of Fudge's body he deemed most appropriate.

And now they were back. They'd been trying without success to locate Tamar for two years, and the relief at the knowledge that she had been found was inextricably linked in with anger at the fate of the other werewolves ~How fucking long has the Ministry known about this and sat on its collective backside?~, the guilt that they themselves had been unable to trace her, the raging urge in both men to just storm in their, gut as many Death Eaters that **dared** to get in their way and get her out, and the complete and utter dread of what they would find when they did get there.

Room security spells now complete, Sirius sagged into a straight-backed chair and groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Remus knelt before him and stroked the raven hair gently.

"Headache?" he queried softly.

"Mmmmhhh," groaned Sirius, lowering his hands and lifting slightly unfocused eyes to peer into Remus' own, "blinding."

"Neck massage?" Remus offered, and a Sirius' nod, followed immediately by a wince as his brain seemed to rattle in his skull, Remus stood up, hand still in his mate's hair. "Turn around," he whispered.

Sirius obeyed without comment, turning so that his legs straddled the seat, facing backwards, and folding his arms over the back of the chair so he could rest his forehead on them. He groaned again when Remus said, "Shirt off. I need to get to your shoulders, too" but he complied with a little assistance, Remus sliding the material slowly down and away from him as Sirius' fingers, clumsy through the pain, fumbled with the few buttons he had bothered to fasten earlier.

When he had resumed his head down position Remus started, first being unable to resist running his fingers lightly down Sirius' spine, eliciting a slight shiver and another moan, although this was not entirely born of the pain in his head. Impossibly tactile at the best of times, the two wizards had an almost pathological need for the comfort of physical contact at times of deep stress and anxiety, as though either would fly apart without the soothing caress of the other acting as an anchor, and to reassure.

Remus placed one hand on either side of Sirius' neck where it joined the shoulders, and pressed his thumbs into the nape of his neck, one each side of the cervical vertibrae. He found the sight of this part of Sirius' body incredibly visually arousing since it was usually hidden by the thick swathe of ebony hair, generally only visible when Remus was taking his mate from behind. Also clearly visible were two bite marks, surprisingly the only visible scars on Sirius' body. They lay almost on top of each other. Both had been put there by Remus. The first on Sirius' 17th birthday, the second when they were finally reunited after fourteen years apart. Remus loved watching that delectable neck and the scars on it bend and curve and dance as Sirius arched his neck, now hiding the structure of the bones, now displaying it for him, and only for him. He leaned forward and softly kissed it before closing his teeth tenderly, possessively around the bony area in a gentle mock claiming bite. It was a question, a plea, an invitation, no hint of command or compulsion. Remus knew that Sirius would hear the unspoken words. He heard and felt Sirius' gasped intake of breath and bit down slightly harder, then drew back to resume the circling and gentle pressure with his thumbs.

"How's that feel, love?"

"Wonderful." Sirius' voice sounded husky, deep, aroused. Remus moved in closer and pressed up against his back so that Sirius could feel his mate's reciprocal arousal. "Remus," he moaned, "I need you." He removed a hand from beneath his forehead and snaked it between his back and Remus' groin, squeezing gently at the hardness in Remus' jeans. Remus growled quietly as he tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes for a moment to savour the gentle kneading.

"Well then," he finally whispered, his voice equally as aroused and husky as Sirius' own, "why don't we take this somewhere a little more comfortable?" He bent down and kissed the top of the ebony head, then rubbed his cheek over the dark, satin soft expanse as he pressed himself even closer to Sirius' back for an instant before pulling slowly away, finally allowing his fingers to trickle teasingly down the broad, lightly tanned back before him.

Sirius stood and swung a long leg slowly back over the chair before turning and gathering Remus to him in a full embrace. For a while they just stood in silence, stroking each other's back and hair and taking in each other's scent. For at least the thousandth time, Sirius wished his sense of smell was as heightened as Remus' own.

Eventually, he pulled slightly away, bringing his hands round and up to slowly start unbuttoning Remus' shirt as he walked him backwards until Remus could feel the edge of the mattress against his legs.

"How's your headache?" Remus asked lightly, teasingly.

"I'll live." And Sirius bent his head to taste the expanse of delectable creamy skin he'd just uncovered on Remus' shoulder. He ran his tongue lightly outward along the top of the shoulder, nipped gently at the shoulder blade, then ran his tongue back inwards along Remus' collarbone, towards his throat. Remus moaned at the sensation then, reluctantly, placed a slightly trembling hand on either side of Sirius' head and lifted it away from him.

"No, really love. Let me heal you first." He moved one hand to the back of Sirius' head, burrowing through his hair to rest it gently and directly upon the base of his skull.

"You know you always do," whispered Sirius, stroking Remus' cheek tenderly with the back of one hand. "You're the only one who ever could." He inclined his head slightly to brush his lips along Remus' other cheek before moving to his mate's soft lips, which were already slightly parted in anticipation.

Remus took full advantage of his hand already being at Sirius' neck and pulled him closer, running his other hand round his waist and down the back of his jeans where he gently kneaded the indentation at the base of his lover's spine, knowing how sensitive Sirius' skin was there. Sirius gave a curious little whimper/moan into Remus' mouth as their two tongues entwined and caressed.

The heat from Remus' mouth, the tingles which were networking from the base of his own spine and the warmth of the healing charm emanating from the hand at his neck combined to send Sirius' senses into a whirling spiral of arousal. He thrust his tongue deeper into Remus' mouth until the tip could feel the vibrations of his mate's low, constant growl. The vibrations seemed to work their way back along his tongue like lightning down a conductor. They worked an osmosis through his body where they eventually met with the tingles spreading out from his spine and erupted into a furnace of desire, love and need. Only Remus had this power, this ability to reach into the very depths of Sirius' soul, to arouse and inflame, to cleanse and heal.

Eventually, they had to pull apart for oxygen. Sirius took the opportunity to finish unbuttoning Remus's shirt then, as he slipped his hands inside to ease it down and off his mate's body, he slowly followed the garment's trail and sank to his knees before Remus. From his kneeling position he raised his head to gaze fully into Remus' eyes. Only a couple of days away from the full moon, they were glowing with golden fire, a hundred times brighter to Sirius than the most glorious sunrise, and with a thousand times more heat.

Sirius had been the original sunrise watcher of the pair, introducing Remus to its wonderous glory the morning after his 17th birthday when, intoxicated by the infinitely greater glory of his new world with the only one he would ever want to love this way, he had confided shyly to his new mate that his teenage fancy had imagined his now-lover's eyes in the burning celestial orb. He realised again now, as he had for the first time then, that he had been wrong. There was nothing celestial about the fire that was Remus Lupin. He was primal, feral, infinitely of the world. He **was** the world. And where the sun's splendour could only be viewed from afar, consuming its closer neighbours who dared to try and hold or caress it, leaving them barren, desolate wastelands, Remus' eyes blazed with phoenix fire, bestowing life as it burned into the deepest recesses of the soul, flooding the darkest corners with light so shadow and doubt could find no purchase.

Sirius raised his hands slowly to the button of Remus' jeans and opened it. Then he lowered the zip just as slowly, allowing the quiet hum of the metal teeth parting to penetrate deep into his brain as well as that of his lover, causing them both to shudder slightly with the faintest of anticipatory moans. Then Sirius reached round to the sides, gently caressing Remus' waist before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and easing the jeans down past the beautiful slim hips and lean, taught thighs which were gradually exposed to his hungry eyes. He'd used to joke that Remus could crack walnuts with those thighs and he admired them now, his thumbs pressing into the muscle and trailing down firmly, taking Remus' jeans further down his legs as they journeyed towards his knees.

Deliberately ignoring Remus' cock for the moment, Sirius' hands went back up to push Remus' hips gently, directing him to sit on the bed, before he bent his head again to remove boots and socks, his own as well as his mate's. He swiftly stood to remove his own jeans, then knelt again and turned back to Remus and finally pulled the last, unwelcome garment fully off his long legs. Then he placed his hands on Remus' knees and parted them, knee-walking forwards until he could reach to run his tongue slowly up the underside of his lover's penis and lightly circle its head, then straightening to be enfolded in Remus' strong arms and pulled closer so each man could feel the elevated heartbeat of the other against his own chest.

"Remus, I need you," he said again, so softly that, had anybody been standing more than two feet away, he would not have been heard. But Remus heard him. Remus always did.

"I'm here," he whispered into Sirius' hair, running a talented hand through the black locks. Then he moved further back and round on the bed, taking Sirius by the hand and leading him along, until Remus was resting his back against the headboard and Sirius was kneeling over him on all fours, straddling his legs.

"I love you, my life." And Sirius dipped his head to flick his tongue over an already hardened nipple before taking it into his mouth, suckling and nibbling gently on it, registering with pleasure the slight catch in Remus' breath at the sensations coursing through him. He raised a hand to the other nipple and rolled it under his thumb for a moment, then began pinching and tugging on it, gently at first, then gradually harder, more insistant as his own need and arousal grew, fueled by the quiet groans and growls which his actions elicited from Remus' chest and throat.

Carefully, ensuring that the two never broke contact, Remus eased himself down until he was lying fully on the bed, then he arched himself up, moaning slightly louder as Sirius' mouth left his chest and began to travel down the centre of his torso towards his navel while his hands skated around to Remus' sides, teasing the lines of his ribs with a pressure just too strong to be purely ticklish.

"I love you too, my beautiful bright one," Remus murmured, his usual light, husky baritone sounding slightly thicker, pouring like warm honey into Sirius' heart, mind and senses. "Let me...," and the slender fingers reached out towards him, but Sirius shook his head wordlessly, only allowing Remus to rest his hands on his shoulders. Remus, for the moment, could put forward no argument on his own behalf as Sirius' tongue now circled his navel, dipping in and out of the cleft now and again in teasing imitation of his ultimate intention.

"Oh, yes love. Yes...please," begged Remus softly, applying a gentle downward pressure to the warm, strong shoulders under his hands. Sirius allowed himself to be directed, bestowing little sucking kisses and nips to the sensitive flesh of Remus' abdomen, drawing forth more moans and whimpers of pleasure and anticipation, adding fuel, stoking the now almost unbearable arousal so that it soared to heights so great that Sirius could have sworn he could almost see eternity. And Remus had hardly touched him.

Sirius moved his head over to the right, to trace lips, tongue and teeth along the junction of thigh and body, feeling the nerves and muscles twitch involuntrarily. Then he did the same on the left side. The hands had gone from his shoulders and he knew without looking that Remus would be raised up on his elbows, watching him through passion narrowed and pleasure dazed eyes. He flicked a glance up anyway. He wanted Remus to know that he knew he was being watched. That he knew and...permitted it. Just for now, for this brief moment, Sirius was taking charge.

He finally turned his attention to the thatch of dark honey curls which surrounded Remus' cock. He buried his nose into it, inhaling deeply to capture as much of his mate's delicious scent, heightened with arousal. He groaned low. "You smell like everything good and right, my angel," he muttered. Then his tongue snaked out and ran again up the underside of Remus' cock, tracing along the large vein, up towards the fully exposed head, where glistened a perfect pearl of precome, highlighted against the purple-red of the glans. Sirius gently touched his tongue to it, catching it into his mouth, where the slightly salty taste burst like a firework over his tastebuds. "And you taste like heaven," he whispered. Then he lowered his head to taste more, bringing up a hand at the same time to caress Remus' balls and to run a finger along his perineum.

Remus cried out loud as he was taken completely into the warm haven of Sirius' mouth and down his throat. His neck jerked back and his eyes closed almost involuntarily for the briefest of moments.

"By all the sweetest gods, Siri, you have no idea what you do to me," he gasped, knowing even as the words escaped his lips that Sirius knew **exactly** what he did, but saying them nonetheless because right now...oh, right now it was the only thing his fevered mind could think of.

Sirius moved his mouth away from Remus' cock for an instant. "Show me," he commanded, and shifted his body round so his hips straddled Remus' face. Then Remus took Sirius' cock in his hand, pumping lightly and smearing precome over the head, before swallowing him down, mirroring the movements which Sirius had now resumed. Remus reached both hands up and round to run his nails teasingly up the backs of Sirius' thighs, feeling the muscles contract with the stimulus, and the resulting groan around his cock made him judder and jerk, releasing Sirius' length from his mouth.

"Sirius!" There was an underlying urgency to the tone of his voice and Sirius responded, conceded control, immediately and smoothly. He turned again, straddled Remus's hips, and with no lubrication other than his own spit still glistening on his lover's hard shaft, no preparation other than his own willpower ordering - commanding him to open, he impaled himself, fully and brutally, on his mate.

Gods, it hurt, as he knew full well it would. But it was the **cleanest** , **purest** most holy pain he had ever endured, and he welcomed and embraced it, his deep groan of greeting issuing from his very bones and sinews, a countermelody to Remus' harsh cry of ecstasy as both pairs of hands reached out blindly, instinctively and grasped at the other, clutching at wrists with a vise-like grip. ~Hold me. Keep me safe. Don't let go. Don't let me fall~~I won't. I have you. You're safe. You won't fall. I love you~.

They stayed there, unmoving for what could have been mere seconds, or could have been days, as Sirius' body adjusted and Remus forced himself back from exploding. Then, when the **burn** in both men had subsided sufficiently, Sirius began to slide himself slowly up Remus' length, squeezing as he did so, then relaxing completely as he slid back down again, to meet Remus thrusting gently upwards with his hips. Remus freed one of his hands to reach up and take hold of a lock of the sable hair, winding it rounds his fingers.

"Are you alright, my beautiful one?" He murmured the words softly, as though almost loath to break the intensity, the near sanctity of the moment. Sirius gazed into the phoenix fire again and found it tempered slightly with a softness born of concern. He leaned forwards and closed Remus' eyes reverently with kisses to both lids, raising his own free hand to gently caress his lover's soft, honey-silver hair.

"I'm fine," he reassured him. "How can I be otherwise when I'm with you? You are my soul."

"As you are mine," Remus whispered, "My heart, my soul, my life and my only home." He gripped Sirius' hip and back and rolled them deftly with a skill honed by familiarity, until Sirius lay on his back, his long hair strewn across the white pillows in stark monochrome contrast. Remus took one of the pillows from the empty side of the bed and manoeuvred it under Sirius' arching back, both men groaning and whimpering with even the smallest effort of having to deal with practicalities. Then he gently raised his lover's legs until they were resting on his shoulders, running his hands soothingly up and down the long expanse from thighs to ankles. "Are you sure you're...?"

"Remus!" Sirius virtually sobbed the word out with frustration at the inactivity. Remus laughed quietly as he pulled back agonizingly slowly, until only the head of his cock rested inside Sirius' body. He took a few seconds to look down at where they were joined together, and reached a shaking hand down to touch where he disappeared into Sirius' tight, dark velvet passage. "Beautiful," he whispered. Then, with a sudden snarled cry, he shrugged Sirius' legs from his shoulders, forcing them further apart, and hammered himself back home, twisting his hips ruthlessly as he gripped Sirius at hip and cock.

Sirius screamed - "Yes, Remus...oh fuck **yes** love...Oh, you **know**...you always know..." - sending Remus rapidly towards delirium, as he began pumping his mate's cock, hard and fast, in time with the frantic pace his cock was setting within Sirius' searing heat. Sirius forced his hands down into the bed, using them as leverage as he moaned, twisted, writhed and thrust, angling himself so that Remus brushed his prostate almost bruisingly at every lunge, sparking blinding flashes of white light in his brain along with every word that spilled from Remus' mouth in sweet, snarled obscenity.

"Need...fill you...fucking split you open...wide...come so deep...so deep and hard in your beautiful...tight...hot...sweet...arse...you'll taste me...taste my come in your throat...Need...deeper...never deep enough...want to stay here...forever...fucking you...forever...never want to stop...Want to hear you...hear you scream for me again...scream my name...loud...so fucking loud...see you...watch your beautiful face...need...you..."

Sirius couldn't last. He knew it and was completely and utterly incapable of fighting it. He was in total sensory overload, aware only of Remus' semi-incoherent vocal urgings, his hand moving, fast and hard and beautiful along the entire length of his cock, the almost painful tightening in his balls and the pounding of Remus inside him, taking him swiftly to where only Remus could, where only Remus ever would.

"Remus...please...more...just, so close...oh, fuck babe...so close...yes, ahh gods, yes...so good...so fucking perfect...can't...wait...Rem...angel...need your eyes on me...now...now... **now**...REMUSSSSSS!"

He melted, he exploded, he flew, he crawled, he died and was reborn as Remus watched him, heard him, inhaled deeply of the scent of his beloved mate's climax, felt him clench insanely tight around him, trapping him, milking him, pulling him over the edge as he howled Sirius' name, beyond ecstasy, beyond reasoning, beyond comprehension of anything other than that moment; Sirius crying to him, Sirius' arms closing round his back and shoulders, Sirius' love holding him safely, so safely. He collapsed, sobbing and mewling onto Sirius, allowing his lover to cradle him like he still did after ever full moon; stroking, soothing, caressing, calming, kissing him until his trembling slowed and stopped with a final, shuddering gasp.

They lay there for long moments, bathed in an afterglow of contentment, lazily stroking at sweating backs and chests and damp hair, and bestowing kisses upon parts of each other that lay within easy reach.

"Oh, sweet Merlin, Remus...no-one...absolutely no-one..." Sirius was too sated to try to find the words.

"...would believe that two forty year old men still fuck like horny teenagers whose parents are away for the weekend?" suggested Remus.

Sirius chuckled silently, his body shaking. "Well, there is that, my love. However..."

"I know, Siri. I know," whispered Remus wrapping an arm around Sirius' chest and snuggling into him, holding onto this brief oasis in the desert of their anger and confusion for as long as he could.

"We **will** get her back, love. And we'll do what we can, what we have to. You've got another pack to look after, whether you like it or not. And I don't just mean me and Tamar. We'll all need you to 'Alpha' us around soon."

"I don't want to, Siri. I love them, they're family, the nearest things we have to roots - even the damn twins. I...don't want to let them down. I'm scared. I don't want to hurt them. Don't let me hurt them, Siri..." his eyes finally closed as his voice trailed off into sleep, so he didn't see the tears begin to fill Sirius' eyes again at the tone of childlike fear in his voice, didn't feel the fierceness of the embrace as Sirius drew his slack body more tightly to him, didn't hear the words of Sirius' promise.

"I won't let you hurt them, love. No matter what happens, no matter if it means we don't come back, I won't let you hurt them. I love you."

(Still present day, evening)

Percy sank back against his pillow with a tired, grateful sigh. It had been a harder day than he'd imagined, and he still couldn't get the sick feeling to leave his gut, nor Tamar/Penny's eyes to leave his head. He took off his glasses and rested them on his chest as he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger. Then, as he replaced his glasses with one hand he reached out with the other to the side, towards the bedside table.

His fingertips went unerringly to the unframed photograph lying on the wooden surface and he drew it towards him. Holding the edge between thumb and forefinger carefully he smiled sadly down at the image.

"Hello, love." He whispered, running the tip of his other forefinger gently down the cheek of the eternally twenty-one year old face that smiled up at him, sapphire blue eyes sparkling with affection before elegant, manicured fingers lifted to the beautiful, lightly tinted lips - nothing garish or tarty for his Penny - and blew him a kiss. He lifted his forefinger from the photo, kissed it lightly then touched it tenderly back down onto the now pouting mouth before him. Penny laughed silently and winked at him seductively, long mascara'd eyelashes closing over the sparkling sapphires in feigned demurement.

Percy sighed again and turned the photograph face down on his chest. He closed his eyes slowly. "I miss you, Pen. Every day, every minute. I miss you, so much."

Percy had never expected to find anybody to love him the way Penelope had. He'd never even paid it a great deal of thought. Oh, his family loved him, he'd never really doubted that, but they'd all seemed to go off into their own separate little cliques, and he'd so often felt the odd one out.

Bill and Charlie had been born just over twelve months apart, then there had been a gap of four years before Percy, so he'd never really felt a part of their little world. Then two years later had come Fred and George, a ready-made partnership of mayhem. He'd tried to pair up with Ron as his youngest brother became a toddler, but accepted with a sad, inevitable stoicism beyond his years that Ron would naturally gravitate towards the more compelling orbit of the twins, whose mere presence had the effect of lighting up a room and whose boundless energy swept through all of their lives like a two-headed tornado, leaving Percy exhausted in its wake.

Ginny he adored. They all did. It wasn't possible **not** to adore their youngest sibling and only sister. But Ginny had always been in awe of her three oldest brothers, and he'd never really got to know her as well as he would have liked.

So, he'd turned to his books for consolation, forgetting that he was a child with a child's heart, longing for play and comradeship and adventure. He'd occasionally watched his siblings surreptitiously over the dual barriers of a book cover and the rim of his glasses frame - and a glasses frame was an excellent aid to quiet spying, he'd discovered - and he'd silenced the little boy in him that cried to be invited to play, to climb trees, skin his knees and come home filthy and game-sated. Gradually, he'd convinced himself that he had always been the quiet, studious, responsible one - and the gods knew, **one** of Arthur and Molly's brood had to be responsible. So, he had assumed that mantle, and worn it with a pride and protectiveness that others mistook for arrogance and stuffiness. He'd suffered their - usually - good natured taunts with outward reserve, saving the deep hurt which they had unwittingly caused for when he was alone. They'd never really understood. Nobody had, except maybe for Molly.

Until Penelope.

He wished he could say that she'd breezed into his life one day and turned his safe, predictible, comfortable, boring as all hells life around with no more than the sparkle in her eyes and the smiled promise on her lips. But no. Penny had had to work hard, and Percy still marvelled that she had seen something in him which had inspired her continued endeavour. She had **made** him notice her, really notice her besides sharing an occasional library table for study, or prefect meetings, and it had been slow and gradual, until he had awoken one morning to find that he was no longer alone. ~Oh, Percy. How decadent. Fancy, sneaking a Ravenclaw into a Gryffindor dormroom. Ooh, how naughty of you!~. It had been a bit like Christmas when viewed from the middle of the preceding January; seemingly remote, too far off to even contemplate. But slowly, inexorably, the year progresses, speeds up, seasons turn and then suddenly the turkey's in the oven, decorations are being put up, trees are being trimmed and everybody's surprised and delighted.

He'd been surprised and delighted when he'd **finally** realised that she'd noticed him. Nobody noticed Percy. No, they noticed Percy, but not **Percy**. **Percy** was the tiniest cog in the Weasley machinery, an integral part of the whole, but generally overlooked, hiding away in the middle.

Penny had made him realise who he was. Penny had seen what he'd long forgotten. It had taken her a long time to remove all the layers - Percy still cringed when he considered what an insufferable prat he'd been his first year at the Ministry - but with more love and care and patience than Percy even knew existed in the world, she had persevered. And Percy had begun to like the man he was becoming under Penny's gentle guiding hands. And he grew more and more in love with her every day. The prematurely serious child became a man who laughed often and easily, and loved deeply and sincerely.

Then three years ago, he'd been invited to a grand Hogwarts school reunion in his capacity as a former head boy. Naturally, he'd taken Penny as his partner. The place had looked wonderful with all of its decorations and memorabilia scattered and presented throughout the corridors and classrooms. Percy was enraptured with the place, almost as though he was seeing it through new eyes; eyes which had been recently opened by his adored love.

He hadn't noticed the underlying tension beneath the welcoming smiles and apparent bonhomie at the staff table. He'd been slightly surprised to see Sirius Black there, but only for a moment until he remembered that, of course, he would be with Professor Lupin who, as a former teacher, albeit only short term, had warranted an invitation. He had smiled in greeting at both men and wondered if they were half so happy as he was. Looking at his beautiful Penny, he doubted it very much.

When the mayhem had begun, he'd grabbed Penny and they'd fled together, down seemingly endless corridors, dodging curses left, right and centre, getting hopelessly lost, confused and led astray by the damned staircases, tripping over bodies - dead, dying or simply stunned, he had no way of knowing - some of which he recognised, until they'd found themselves in an area on the first floor, he thought, but it was so hard to be sure. Neither of them recognised it.

Then, sudden remembrance had frozen his steps and chilled his heart with dread - Bill! and Charlie! The other Weasley former head boy and the ex Quidditch captain were here somewhere, too. And knowing them, they'd be right in the thick of it ~Where's the fun at parties if you always stay in the kitchen? Get to the dance floor, Perce. Down and dirty where the best action is!~ In the midst of his anguished indecision, he'd heard footsteps approaching. ~Oh shit. Got to hide~. He'd hissed urgently at Penny to come back, but she'd carried on running for a few seconds after the thought of his older brothers had halted his own flight. He'd hidden behind a huge banner which concealed a shallow alcove and had beckoned to her, frantically. It was too late. Before she could move more than a couple of feet, the footsteps had turned the corner.

"Well, well, well," drawled a voice which Percy thought he recognised, but couldn't quite place, "what do we have here?" The over-syrupy tones changed in an instant as the voice turned suddently harsh. "Petrificus totalus."

Two black-robed figures blocked his line of sight, hiding Penny from his view. All he could see were her feet. He'd bought her those shoes to go with her new dress robes, which he'd bought because they highlighted her eyes.

It was over breathtakingly swiftly. One of the two black robes suddenly clutched at his forearm, swearing softly as if in pain, and the other groaned in sudden discomfort. They muttered quietly together, then, with a shrug, the one whose voice Percy still couldn't quite place said in resignation, "Ah well, plenty more where this one came from, I suppose. Pity though. Those lips would've looked **damn** pretty wrapped around my cock." He raised his wand almost carelessly.

"Avada Kedavra"

Then they'd carried on down the corridor, away from Percy, away from Penny, who lay there in the dissipating green smoke, her blue eyes turned towards him in an appeal for help he would never hear. The same eyes, only in a different shade to those he'd seen that lunchtime.

There was a difference though. Although the golden eyes were as dead as Penny's had been, there'd still been breath coursing into Tamar's lungs. Painful, yes. Every lungful fought for, yes. But perhaps 'fought' was the operative word here.

He hadn't fought for Bill and Charlie who, thank each and every god, had lived. He hadn't fought for Penny, who had not.

He hadn't run though. He'd wanted to. Wanted to run away and never look back. But how do you run from yourself? From the guilt, the fear, the horror of knowing that perhaps you **could** have done something, that you certainly **should** have tried. That you did nothing. How do you run from your dead lover's eyes?

He'd still been sitting in the alcove behind the banner when Madam Hooch had found them - him and Penny - **hours** later. His methodical mind assured him that it was no more than three hours later.

Then, he'd walked calmly to Dumbledore, and told him his intentions. Dumbledore had embraced him - **embraced** him, but hadn't stopped him.

Then, he'd gone to Marcus Flint, told him more or less what he'd told Dumbledore, just omitting to tell him a couple of...relevant...points.

Then he'd gone with Flint, to Voldemort. Told him exactly what he'd told Flint.

To his dying day and beyond, Percy would never know how he got through the horror of initiation, the physical and mental torture beyond anything in his wildest imaginings. He suspected that, because his heart was dead, his mind numb and his spirit crushed, he bore more than a passing resemblance to the real thing.

Then, gradually, he'd started working for the Order. Making amends. Trying to make his peace with Penny. With himself. Fighting in the only way he knew how, with his brain and his wits. But fighting nonetheless. Fighting like Tamar now did with every breath.

Physically, she was little more than dead, he knew that. She needed someone to help her fight. Well, until something - some **one** or maybe even **two** turned up, Percy was the best hope she had. More than that, he was the **only** hope she had. And Percy would do his damndest to make sure that her hope wasn't in vain.

"I'll try, Penny. I promise I'll try to keep her safe." He murmured to the photograph, which he'd now turned face up again.

Kissing Penelope's smiling mouth one last time, watching her nod with what he took to be her agreement, Percy put the image back on his bedside table, placed his glasses next to it, then rose from the bed and went into the bathroom to get ready for sleep which he so desperately needed, but which he doubted would come easily.

~~~~~~~

Saturday morning dawned brightly into Remus' and Sirius' bedchamber. They'd been up early watching the sunrise as it dispelled the gloom of the predawn. Remus was restless, as was his norm on the day preceding the full moon; anxious, pacing, his inner wolf barely contained beneath the calm surface. Even Sirius couldn't fully placate him this one day out of twenty eight. He still enjoyed the challenge though.

But Sirius himself had seemed agitated this morning. Not unpleasantly so. More as if...Remus' mind searched, trying to pinpoint the possible cause through the whirling of his own unease at the coming night's inevitability...as if he was...planning something...no... **hiding** something which threatened to burst through his skin. It was unusual for Siri to be like this. Normally, he happily assumed the role of comfort and support on full moon days, never having to be asked, never once complaining, and never once leaving his mate's side. But today...today he'd washed and dressed with seemingly indecent haste, pleading an appointment and instructing Remus to get ready and meet him at the paddock behind Hagrid's old hut in an hour.

"But...but...Siri...?" Remus was bewildered, and not a little irritated if truth be told. Surely Sirius hadn't forgotten what today was? No, that was impossible, unfathomable. Sirius never forgot. Ever. And yet he knew that bounding around like a puppy at playtime was hardly ever conducive to the nervous state of the emerging wolf.

"I'm sorry, love. An hour. That's all, just an hour. I **can't** tell you why Remus...no, I **can't** so you can damn well stop looking at me like that."

"Like...?" This was getting even weirder.

"You're glaring - both of you!" Oh, so he hadn't forgotten then.

"Erm...Sorry?..."

"Sweetheart, it's good, I promise. Very good. Think of it as oh...History of Magic mixed in with...a couple of other lessons."

"Hist...?"

"And it'll explain to you why I've been sending so many owls to Dumbledore over the last eighteen months...No, I **know** you never quizzed me about it, but I know you were curious as hell. So...an hour. Okay?"

Remus nodded and ran his hand through his own hair distractedly. "Erm...yeah...okay...But, Siri...?"

Sirius had gripped his upper arms in a quick squeeze and kissed him swiftly on the forehead. Then he had gone, leaving a very confused Remus in his wake. Remus raised his hand to touch where Sirius' lips had kissed.

" An hour...yeah, okay." Then he remembered something. "But, Siri. You **hated** History of Magic and...so did I."

So, an hour later, still as bewildered and definitely none the wiser, Remus had arrived at the paddock as instructed. He was musing on his mate's eyes as they had given the cryptic instructions. Sirius had been...sparkling, happy, as excited as a child or as excited as Padfoot when he was offered a belly rub, and slightly...scared. Scared of what? Of what it was he had to show Remus? Or of Remus' reaction? He paused in his musing for a moment to watch a pair of what looked like...yes! yes it was - a magnificent pair of golden eagles was circling high over the paddock.

Then, movement at the other end of the large paddock drew his attention back down. Sirius was walking towards him, flanked by, and seemingly deep in conversation with, Fred and George Weasley. In fact, Remus had the distinct impression that they were arguing over something, or at least the twins seemed to be haranguing him as they were forced to adopt a half-skipping sideways step, gesticulating madly with their arms. Sirius was simply grinning from ear to ear and shaking his head. He saw Remus and raised a finger to his lips, muttering something. The twins' heads both turned, then they exchanged a mutinous scowl with each other and lapsed into unsmiling silence.

"Hello, my love." called Sirius as the trio approached, and he glanced swiftly down towards the ground at the side of his own feet. Remus followed his gaze.

A fox was trotting amiably beside him, seemingly having been unfazed by the recent argument. The ruddy fur gleamed in the sun in shades of rich russet and ochre, amber/green eyes looking up into Sirius' face, and Remus felt a momentary and uncharacteristic flash of jealousy at the easy trust which Sirius and the twins had seemingly inspired in the animal. Remus had never been able to get that close, not since he'd been bitten. He sighed and waited for the fox to get the message and bolt.

The fox came to a stop about fifteen feet away from Remus, and its human walking companions continued closer, Sirius greeting his lover with a full hug, wrapping strong arms around his slim form and meeting his lips in a deep, melting kiss that made Remus' eyes see stars and the wolf see promise. The twins looked at one another and rolled their eyes in perfect unison. "Get a room!" muttered George.

They pulled apart slightly, smiling. Sirius ran his fingers through Remus' hair and, keeping his eyes fixed on his mate's beautiful, though still quizzical face ~ah, my love. You deny your curiosity but I know you're **aching** inside~, he murmered "Jealousy is **such** an ugly emotion, Mr. Weasley."

Reminded of his own recent flash of that very emotion, Remus took a small step back from Sirius. "Well?" he asked, quirking his head slightly to one side "Are you going to tell me what all the mystery's about?" The additional distance between them permitted his field of vision to extend slightly beyond his smirking mate's face ~That's his damn Marauder face! What in hell...?~ so he could see the fox, still waiting. It had sat down and was watching them with its head cocked to one side.

Remus frowned, perplexed, his gaze flicking from Sirius laughing eyes to the fox's laughing ~shit, yes - it's **laughing** ~ eyes. He didn't realise that foxes could do that...that 'dog' thing with their heads. He knew Moony could, he knew Padfoot could and did, often, to get his own way in a debate - no, no, that was Sirius. But a fox?

He was mildly intrigued at the fox's continued presence. There was only a slight breeze and he was standing downwind from the animal, but there was something about the scent of a werewolf, especially **today** , that usually worked on a more visceral level, independent of wind direction.

But what **really** got him was the sight of two incredibly stunning golden eagles...standing...in the grass...to the fox's right! He scanned the sky briefly, almost unconsciously, and found it empty. This must be the pair he'd seen a few moments ago. But...?

He turned his enquiring gaze fully back towards Sirius. He had a feeling, about as visceral as a fox **should** sense a werewolf, that Sirius would be able to explain.

"Sirius...what...?" ~Oh, Sirius. You haven't. **They** haven't. You **haven't**.~

"Consider it a late 40th birthday present, angel." ~Oh, you glib bastard, Sirius! You have, haven't you?~

"My birthday's in October." ~Dumbledore will **skin** you. Fuck Dumbledore - **I** will skin you!~

"Yes, so?"

"It's June." ~Have you seen my new dogskin throw?~

"Okay. It's a **very** **late** 40th birthday present." ~And I'll use your balls for target practice.~

Remus returned his gaze to the small semi-menagerie (he was including the twins) before him. Fred and George were half-visible in the periphery of his vision, over to the side, arms folded across their chests with identical looks of disgust on their faces. He was about to comment when there was a slight, familiar shift in the air in front of him and where the fox - vixen, he now realised - had once sat, he was now staring at a grinning Ginny Weasley. His stunned brain had just taken this in when, instead of the life-mated birds of prey, another life-mated couple now stood before him; Ron and Hermione. They stood all three together, gave a small bow and said "Happy Birthday" in laughing unison.

Remus was staggered.

"How?...When?... **HOW**?"

Sirius moved round to stand behind his mate and wrapped his arms around his shock-petrified form, nuzzling into the side of his neck. "Well...the owls weren't actually going to Dumbledore, love. I've been training this lot - sort of a correspondence course, really - for about eighteen months and this..." he waved a hand towards the trio "...is most of the result."

"Most...?" Surely they couldn't change into anything else? Then he realised what was wrong, what was missing, from the scene in front of him. He raised his hands to Sirius' arms, which were pinning his upper arms to his sides, and hooked them over the strong forearms for support, gripping tight. "Siri..." he whispered, "oh, Siri..."

"Turn around love." There was something in the way Sirius' voice lowered and almost quavered at his ear that froze Remus in his place and completely swept any thoughts of painful, taxidermic retribution completely and permanently from Remus' mind.

"No," he whispered. Sirius moved round to the front of him. Remus looked almost desperately into his eyes, seeking reassurance, seeking...seeking a **denial** of what his cantering heart was telegraphing to his brain. He shook his head slowly.

"Remus, it's fine," Sirius spoke with the same quiet tone, glancing back now over Remus's shoulders to something - somebody - which softened the icy blue gaze with a haze of memory. "It's beautiful, sweetheart. Turn around."

Remus looked pleadingly at the twin, sparkling aquamarines which were now turned back on him. He couldn't do this, not today. Not when every atom in his body was in rebellion. Not when he knew what seeing what stood behind him would do to him. He'd yearned for this sight for so long with a longing only second to that which he'd felt for Sirius. Oh, and he **wanted** it. He wanted it so much that it **ached**. He wanted it so much that he was afraid.

"I...I...can't..." he shook his head again, begging for help from his mate. "I...just...can't." His voice had almost gone now, he was barely more than mouthing the words. He'd completely forgotten about Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins. He was in a near-blind, petrifying panic as Sirius took him gently but firmly by the shoulders and started guiding his rigid yet unresisting body around. He closed his eyes.

Then, he swallowed, breathed deeply, and opened them. He knew what he would see, knew which heavens-wrought vision would be awaiting him. He was right.

And his soul took flight.

"Prongs!" he breathed, afraid to talk louder, because if he did, this...this **miracle** would be swallowed up, snatched away from him as it had been once before. "Oh, Siri...he's...Prongs!"

Harry's animagus form had been doubly preordained, both by history and by virtue of his Patronus.

Clutching onto Sirius' arm, anchoring him to reality, not fully comprehending how he was even managing to stand, Remus slowly crossed the expanse of ground separating him from the majestic stag which now bowed its heavy head in solemn greeting. He resembled Prongs even more closely than Harry did James, from the soft, liquid brown eyes - not a trace of the Evans green - to the span of antlers and down the broad, strong back, withers which twitched slightly under Remus' gentle, half unbelieving touch, strong, elegant legs and velvety soft muzzle with which he snuffed Remus' hair.

Remus walked slowly around Harry, his eyes drinking greedily of a sight which he never thought he would see again. Sirius watched him, experiencing second hand the emotions which had hit him full force only a short time before when he too had seen their best friend reincarnated in his son. He remembered Remus responding this way when James had first transformed before his incredulous, grateful, loving eyes. At the time, he'd been slightly put out, a little jealous of the awed expression on his loved one's face when he looked at another with such deep awe and love, and he'd fleetingly wished that the stag form had chosen him instead of giving him Padfoot. Now he understood. And as Remus turned to him, eyes and heart too full for words, he simply took him in his arms and held him until Remus could bring himself to handle the overwhelming mix of emotions which had rendered him momentarily incapable.

"Siri...I don't know what to say," he admitted "It's...he's so beautiful, I haven't the words."

"You said it all my love. You don't need words. Not with me. And...he is, isn't he? Absolutely beautiful."

Remus freed himself from Sirius' embrace and walked back to where Harry was watching them. He ran his hands along the antlers, remembering the feel of them under his fingertips from years before. Then he placed his face to the side of the great head and kissed it tenderly. Harry decided that he really didn't mind. He was quite overawed himself at such raw evidence of the love which Remus and Sirius still had for his father.

"Harry," murmured Remus, "will you run with us tonight?" The great head nodded affirmatively and Remus hugged the thick neck. Then he turned to the others, a surge of sheer pleasure breaking through the shock.

"All of you. You'll be with us, won't you?"

Harry, Hermione and Ginny nodded eagerly, if a little dewy eyed. Remus turned to the twins. "What about you two? Don't tell me you're shy. What did...?"

He was cut off by Fred's snarl of disgust. "Huh - **HE**..." and he pointed savagely at Sirius, who was grinning and shaking his head, "...wouldn't let us even try."

Remus turned to his mate. "Sirius...?"

The blue eyes opened wide in only partly feigned horror at the suggestion. "Remus, my angel. You know I adore you, and I accept that all of this has come as a bit of a surprise. But...are you **completely** insane?" Remus saw his point and began to laugh.

"I mean, those two are bad enough as **humans**!"

Remus saw the expressions on the twins' faces and laughed again. He'd miss the twins, and he really didn't need anybody but Padfoot with him for the moons, in fact he really didn't usually **want** anybody but Padfoot with him. But as he glanced at all the faces laughing with him, he felt a shiver of excitement course right through his body. Tonight would be fun.

He needed to thank Sirius for his birthday present, belated as it may be. After all, it was only manners. And as he grabbed his ebony haired lover, and led him with slightly undue haste back to the sanctuary of their chamber, muttering "I cannot **believe** that you managed to keep something like this a secret from me a second time!", he gave thanks that his parents had raised him with a full appreciation of the social graces.

~~~~~~~

"Ah, gentlemen. Do please come in." Severus Snape raised his black eyes for a moment, gesturing with a sweeping wave of his open hand, then returned his attention to the cauldron which was bubbling and steaming in front of him. "I won't keep you a moment. This just needs a few seconds more."

Remus and Sirius stepped into the dungeon room which Snape had claimed years before as his own. They glanced around at bottles and jars arranged meticulously on the shelves. Remus gave a slight involuntary shiver and Sirius placed a steadying hand upon his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Of necessity, there was a variety of ingredients stored in the room, out of general circulation. Unfortunately for Remus, some of these potions and ingredients were not exactly conducive to a werewolf's wellbeing, and this close to a full moon, his body reacted independently to his wishes.

Remus raised a hand to squeeze Sirius' own in gratitude. "I'm alright, love," he murmured, but Sirius could still feel the trembling running through his tense body as Remus fought the emerging wolf's impulse to flee from the presence of silver and aconite. He steered them both to a large sofa and they sat down and waited. The voice from the corner behind them made them both jump.

"Hello, Sirius, Professor." Neville moved out of the shadowy depths, giving them both a smile as he passed by to hand something to his former Potions Master. "Is this what you wanted, Professor Snape?"

Snape looked at the proffered offering, grunted in reply and took it from Neville's hand. Remus and Sirius exchanged faintly amused glances. When they had first been told that Severus and Neville would be working together, they had really assumed that one or both of the men would be either dead or insane by now. They had all changed, there was no denying that but these two? Who would have thought it?

Neville had changed almost beyond recognition from the clumsy, shy boy totally lacking in confidence whom Remus had first met in his third year. He had grown both outwardly and inwardly into a man in whom his grandmother could openly take great pride. At the time of the Hogwarts siege, it had been Neville who had originally raised the alarm. He'd been on his way to see Professor Sprout to discuss his idea for crossbreeding mandrakes with a strain of whispering elm in an attempt to neuter the fatal effects of the former's cry when he had seen the vanguard of the Death Eaters' attack. With no regard for his personal safety, he had managed to get into the Great Hall, rousing its occupants into action, admiring for a moment the way in which most of the teachers at the top table aleady seemed to have a contingency plan, and staying there to do whatever he could for the fallen, in spite of the curses flying over his head so closely that he could feel his hair singeing.

Afterwards, long after most people had left, he had remained, again helping where he could, fetching and carrying until having to be physically stopped by Remus before he drove himself into the ground.

Neville knew he had Remus to thank for the change in him. It had been Remus, having confidence in Neville's abilities before anybody else did, who had awakened a tiny spark inside the boy. The spark had burned minutely for a while afterwards, but it remained lit, flaring during their fifth year and taking everybody by surprise, not least Neville himself, when his innate abilities blossomed. He'd begun doing well in classes which he'd previously all but given up on, his advice was sought more and more, and he'd bloomed into a strong wizard, trustworthy and reliable. He still remembered his grandmother's face when he had been appointed Head Boy. How she had beamed when she first saw him wearing his new badge of office, a badge that now lay, still gleaming, in St. Mungo's, between the beds of his parents. Neville believed that somewhere in their lost, tortured minds, his mother and father knew what he had achieved, and he was grateful beyond imagining to Remus for allowing him to gift them with it.

He'd begun working with Severus Snape shortly after the siege, in the absence of Professor Sprout who had been one of the first to fall, isolated and unaware in her beloved greenhouses. It had been uneasy to say the least at first. But in spite of his dread of the saturnine Potions Master, Neville had recognised his genius in his field, and through closer contact in the closing days of the war, he had learned to respect the man who had been his teen nemesis, and had felt a similar, although perhaps grudging, respect for himself from Severus in return.

After handing over the required ingredient, Neville crossed behind Snape and starting removing a few of the jars from the shelves, spooning and decanting into smaller bottles and jars on occasion before placing them back exactly where he had found them.

Severus extinguished the fire beneath the cauldron and walked over to where Sirius and Remus sat, taking a deep armchair next to the pair. They noticed he still favoured his right leg slightly and wondered if the wound would ever fully heal. Sirius still vividly remembered the mangled mess of Severus' thigh as he'd seen it immediately after it had happened. It had been during his and Remus' last battle of the war and Severus had just saved both of their lives by recklessly and, Severus swore at the time, instinctively, taking down three Death Eaters single handedly as they had approached the two men from behind. Then, Sirius and Remus had saved Severus' life, Remus holding off any further attack while Sirius had tended to the gravely wounded man as best he could. Even in the wizarding world, field medicine had its limitations, and Severus' leg would never be quite whole again. It had been the beginnings of a tentative truce which, while never deepening into true friendship, had nonetheless been more sincere than previously, to the extent that they now used each other's first names in mixed company without flinching at the shock which that revelation had originally engendered.

Severus steepled his fingers under his chin. "As you know, I will not be accompanying you on your mission." he started, "However, Mr. Longbottom has more than enough skill and medical knowledge, in my opinion, to handle any immediate concerns before the...patients...can be moved to a preferable location."

"I'm sure he has." concurred Remus, half-smiling up at Neville as he now approached and took another seat.

"We have been preparing a supply from a list which Neville has drawn up of any potions, ointments and the like which he may require. I need you to look it over and if you have any additions which you may wish to make, let me know now so that I can have everything ready in time. When do you leave?"

"Monday," stated Remus, as Sirius simultaneously said "Wednesday."

The two men locked gazes. "Remus..." warned Sirius.

"Okay, Tuesday then, but no later. I'll be fine by then." Sirius knew that that would be the best offer, so decided to accept it.

"Fine. Tuesday." he said, turning back to Severus "Against my better judgement."

"I will ensure that everything will be ready for you by then. Did you get your wolfsbane Remus? I instructed one of the House Elves to leave it in your chamber?" Ah, now he was teasing. Remus knew that Severus was fully aware that he had received his monthly dose of the potion which enabled him to remain more or less himself while in the body of a different species. He knew because, somewhere in the castle, there was a highly embarrassed and no doubt seriously traumatized House Elf who had turned up with the potion just as Remus was thanking Sirius **most** effusively for the gift of the new moon companions. Locking charms notwithstanding House Elves always managed to find a way to accomplish set tasks.

Sirius felt himself blushing furiously, and he bent his head, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt distractedly to expose long arms which were bruise-blackened and covered in deep scratches. He tried to pull the sleeves down again, hurriedly, but it was too late.

"Good gods, man!" Severus was thunderstruck and Neville instantly dived back into his corner for his medical kit. Then the Potions master's eyes snapped back up and they saw his lips twitch as realisation hit. He looked the werewolf square in the eyes with what appeared to be a hint of amusement. "Remus, I thought you preferred your meat well done."

Remus met the challenge with an equal amusement. "I do. And it was."

The golden gaze shifted to the ice blue one. "Siri, it's getting late. We should..."

Both men stood, Sirius waving away Neville's attentions. "It's fine. He only lets me wear them for a couple of hours then he heals them himself." He smirked at the round-eyed 'O' of dawning awareness on Neville's face. "Really, Neville. It's okay. And **he** has a matching set."

They walked to the door and Sirius turned before they exited. "Erm...,we won't see you tomorrow." He hugged Remus to him as if in explanation. "I've arranged with Dumbledore to have a final meeting on Monday, 3pm. We'll go through everything then one last time. As to the extra supplies, we'll go along with whatever you suggest, Severus. You know practically as much as us about what we'll be facing. Just clue me on anything at the meeting that Neville won't be carrying personally. I'll probably take them myself."

They turned to go.

"Have a good run," came Severus' voice one last time, accompanied by Neville's softer "Yeah, goodnight."

They nodded and smiled briefly, then left.


	6. 05

(PoA era. Morning after June full moon)

"Remus?"

The voice, unwelcome for all of its gentleness, wove its way into a fuzzy, sleepy brain which was trying its level best to divorce itself from the reality of the previous night.

"Remus, are you alright?"

"Nnnnnhhhhh." ~Go away. Just leave me. You don't know.~

"Can you sit up?" ~I could have killed them. I could have killed them all. I could have killed **him**.~

"Nnnnnnnngggggghhhhhh." ~Just fucking leave me alone.~

"Professor Lupin. We really must talk."

Remus lifted himself slowly and painfully onto shaking arms, groaning with the effort. He let his head hang down, long tangled hair falling forwards to hide the anguished despair in his face. He flinched violently and an impassioned moan escaped his parched lips when he felt a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder.

"Remus, my dear boy..."

"Headmaster...please...just leave me alone... **please** " ~What have I done? Oh, gods help me. What. Have. I. Done?~

"No, Remus. No, I don't think that would be wise." Albus' voice was heavy with compassion and concern, yet he spoke with a finality that would brook no argument. Remus was aware of him lowering his body to the ground next to him. He knew that Albus would sit there, patiently if necessary, for as long as it took, and he didn't have the energy, physical or mental, for a battle of wills. With a sigh, he pulled himself into a sitting position, wrapped his arms around his calves and rested his aching head on his knees. He wasn't ready yet to look Dumbledore in the face.

"Albus, I..." he began, but Albus cut across him.

"Firstly Remus, I must reassure you that the children are fine." He finally looked up and into the forget-me-not blue eyes. Albus saw the unspoken question. "As is Sirius." Remus' eyes closed in exhausted relief.

"Where is he?"

"As to that...I think, before I answer, that I really need to remedy a remedy. Then we can talk. If I may...?"

Remus' eyes opened, clouded with confusion. He frowned and shook his head. "I don't underst..."

In response, Albus touched his hand to Remus' forehead and muttered quietly. Remus instinctively made to move from the touch but found himself physically unable. Then, as Albus watched, the golden eyes before him widened to saucers and, in spite of Remus' bone deep discomfort and exhaustion, they glowed with an inner fire of such life and beauty that they were almost terrible to look at. They flashed and sparked with a vitality that Albus had not seen there for far too many years. It was like the birth of a new world, a new solar system.

"I knew," Remus breathed. "I **knew** all along. It wasn't him." The smile of pure euphoria that crossed his lips and eyes lifted Albus heart, and made Remus appear almost as young as when Albus had joined him officially with Sirius. "I **knew** it."

Albus nodded. "Yes, Remus. You knew. And it was **because** you knew that I had to do what I did to you. Please believe me that I would not have done so under any other circumstances. But it was necessary, to keep you safe. Sirius knows what was done. It was at his request..."

"Where is he?"

Albus paused, then got to his feet, surprisingly agile for an old man. "I think our discussion should take place in more comfortable surroundings." He held up a hand to silence the forthcoming protest. "No, Remus. I am afraid I must insist. Are you able to walk?"

Remus nodded and got to his feet, wincing with the effort. Wordlessly, Albus handed him a clean set of robes and helped him to put them on over aching bones and protesting muscles, noting the fresh cuts, bites and welts which the wolf had inflicted upon itself and its human host the night before. He made no comment, however. If there was one thing Remus hated, it was over-solicitousness. Unless of course it came from his mate. In the past, Albus had seen Sirius cradle his mate like a baby, Remus accepting such without demur, in a way that he would never have allowed from another living soul. He only allowed Albus' assistance now because of physical necessity.

In silence, they made their way across the still silent school grounds, Remus' eyes straying in the direction of the Whomping Willow. ~I **knew** ~ he thought, and that rediscovered knowledge brought another smile to his lips, and a degree of peace to his heart.

Three quarters of an hour later he was sitting in a deep, comfortable armchair in the headmaster's office, cradling a large mug of black coffee in one shaking hand. Albus had gone through the previous night's events in outline as Remus had read the letter which Sirius had sent to him more than twelve and a half years earlier. He ached at the fear which he saw in every line; fear for Remus more than himself. He looked up pleadingly, though he knew, futilely, into the kind old face.

"Please, Albus. Please let me go to him."

"Remus, I can't. Even if I knew where he was - and I don't - I could not allow it. You know that you will be watched for a while. It's simply too dangerous - for both of you."

Remus knew all of this already. His love and desperation was making him reckless. All he could see was Sirius as he'd appeared to him the previous evening. Thin, oh so painfully thin in his hungry arms. Those beautiful eyes sunk into bone-sharp cheeks; haunted, fearful and half-crazed. His teeth discoloured between chapped, bruised lips. His stunning, satin-soft ebony hair hanging in rank, greasy clumps down to his waist. His hands; his wonderful, clever, talented hands that, except for one occasion wrought by complete despair, had only ever touched him in love, concern and tender passion; those hands which had teased him to ecstasy and soothed him back again, now skeletal, begrimed and shaking. His deep, seductive voice cracked and broken by the gods knew what terror-induced screaming. His filthy, damaged, destroyed, always beautiful and eternally beloved mate. His soul mate. His lover. His Sirius. He closed his eyes to stem sudden tears of frustration and leaned his head back against the rear of the chair with a faint moan.

"I know, Albus. I'm sorry. I just...I just. Oh, gods Albus. After last night. After...I don't know whether he even... **remembers** me...us...as we were. **What** we were."

"I had the good fortune to be able to speak to him for a while last night, Remus. He told me many things...including the fact that he, James Potter and...Mr. Pettigrew became animagi. I asked him many things and he answered me. You see, Remus, unlike you I **didn't** know that Sirius was innocent. Oh, I wanted to believe it, more than you could know, but I wasn't sure. And I have always hated being unsure. It was unfathomable to me that Sirius would do anything that would cause harm to any of you, yet the only available evidence was...pretty compelling. So, I was glad to take the opportunity for a chat when it was presented. It cleared up so many doubts in my mind. Before we parted, he wrote and asked me to give you this."

Remus looked up. Albus was holding out a piece of parchment. He took it and opened it. The writing was shaky, spidery and tear smudged. Remus ran his fingers over it. Except for the physical presence of his mate, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

~My only love,

I am so sorry that I will not be there to hold you when you wake up. To caress you and soothe your pain. I want to. Oh, love, I **ache** to be with you, to take your body into my arms as you took mine just a short time ago. To feel your lips on my skin. Because love, I remember so much, but I've forgotten the feel and taste of your beautiful mouth. And I need to remember it. I need you to remind me, to restore me. I need you.

When I saw you tonight I felt alive. Truly alive for the first time in so very long. When I looked into your eyes, such beautiful eyes that have guided me and lit my darkness for over twelve years, I saw such love there that my soul sang. When you held me in your strong arms I felt safe, so utterly and completely safe that I wanted to just curl up in the sanctuary of your warmth and strength and beg you never to let go of me.

I love you, my angel. Love you so much that it is killing me to have to leave you again, no matter how necessary it may be. But it **is** necessary for now. Since you are reading this I know that the headmaster has told you all the circumstances.

So my love, we have to part again. You know that we have been apart for longer than we were together. And yet I feel that we have been together forever. I had no life before I loved you, and I have always loved you. I know that, when I come back, we will never be parted again. We'll spend eternity together love, and even that will not be long enough.

I will write to you, as soon as I can. I promise. I won't be able to write what my heart truly wants to say. I can't rely on my letters not being intercepted, and I will not put you at further risk. But understand that behind every word of Padfoot's friendly gossip, a hundred words are hiding, telling you over and over just how much I miss you and love you.

Just be patient a little while longer love. I'll be with you as soon as I can.

I love you, now and always. Never, ever doubt that I am and always will be

Your Sirius~

Remus sat for a while, staring at his lover's handwriting in silence, not trusting his voice, hearing Sirius' own voice speaking the words of the letter into his mind and his heart. He looked up through tear-dimmed eyes when he heard Albus' voice again.

"He also asked me to give you this. He wanted to give it to you himself but, under the circumstances..." He held out his hand again, palm up. Remus reached over and took his handfasting ring with trembling fingers. He closed his hand over it and held his clenched fist to his mouth.

"I thought it had been stolen," he whispered as a silent tear escaped each closed eye. "I thought they'd taken it from me when they took Sirius."

"No Remus. It's been safe. Just hiding. A bit like the truth, eh? It just needed looking for in a few less obvious places." Albus crossed to pat Fawkes on the head, looking rather pleased with himself at his analogy. He then went back over to Remus and rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It **will** be alright again, Remus. I just wish for now that you would reconsider your decision to resign."

Remus opened his hand and looked down at the ring. He watched the stones glinting and playing in the morning light. It was still early but, being June, was full daylight now, and the effect of the light on the entwined stones gave the illusion that there was only one bi-coloured gem, its colour diffusing from the pale blue of the aquamarine to the gold of the topaz, creating a complete circle with no visible join, a whole instead of two halves. He saw the inscription engraved inside; the only one they had agreed on since Remus had rebelled against using a football team's motto. In French, which neither spoke much. They just picked it because it sounded romantic. 'Toi et nul autre'. He slipped it onto his finger, eyes closed again as he remembered Sirius putting it there. "You and no other," he murmured. Then he smiled and turned to the waiting headmaster.

"You know I can't stay. The governors would have the school closed within a week, Albus. You know I'm right. And now...well, now I go back to waiting. I'm good at that you know. And at least I **know** that this time, the waiting will have an end.

I'll go to Bella's for a while, spend some time with her and Tamar. I was supposed to be there last night, and she's not used to being alone for the moons. I need to make it up to her, and I need to tell her about Sirius." He grinned wryly up at Albus. "At the moment she believes he's just a make-believe storybook hero." He stood, still grimacing a little at the protesting muscles. "As if you could just make up anyone like Sirius Black, eh?" He chuckled quietly.

"Well, you could try," laughed Albus, happier than he could say to see Remus' growing enthusiasm, hope and happiness, "but nobody would ever believe you. And I believe that goes for Remus Lupin too." The blue eyes twinkled at him over the rim of the half-moon glasses. "Ah, Remus. You are right, as you normally are. However, the school will be a sadder place without you. In such a short time you have become one of the better liked, most respected teachers at Hogwarts, and you will be missed." Helping to support the still weakened werewolf, while trying to make it look like an act of camaraderie, Albus placed an arm around the slim shoulders. "Come on then, if you're sure. I'll owl Arabella for you to let her know, and to prepare your bed since I know you'll need it as soon as possible. Then I'll help you pack."

~~~~~~~

(Present Day)

Moonset was sudden, brutal, and took them all by surprise. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Moony lost track of the hours as he acquainted himself with his new night companions, and he wished with all of his wolf heart and almost human brain that it was one of the longer winter moons which had gleamed down upon their forms.

He had instantly and instinctively accepted the stag into the pack, remembering all of the nuances, skill and grace of his lost packmate, and recognising them anew in his glorious offspring. He had revelled in the quicksilver movements of the sleek, playful vixen as she had joined wholeheartedly in the canine revelry. Her fluid agility and lightning reflexes had easily surpassed that of his beloved Padfoot, and she had taken impish delight in wrongfooting even the wolf, time after time. And he had leapt and bounded and spun in the air with wild yelps of lupine joy at the novelty of the swoops and mock attacks of the eagles, greeting their calls and screams with joyful howls, and letting the birds ride on his back occasionally.

So, when the first warning convulsion tore through the powerful tawny body, and the howl of glee became a scream of torment, as the wolf was flung to the ground, unable to stand as his hips and back legs seemed dipped into fire, the four younger animagi instantly shifted to human form, to be met with a frenzied volley of barks from a panicked Padfoot.

~No, no, no, no, no, back, back, back, NOW!~

They got the message when Padfoot edged slightly nearer to Moony just as another convulsion hit. From his position lying on his side, Moony's spine arched back viciously and he lashed out at the dog in furious, agonized rage. Padfoot easily evaded the claws, then turned and glared through Sirius' eyes to make sure that they had appreciated his little demonstration.

~See?~ They saw.

They could only wait while Moony went through the torturous steps of his lunar danse macabre, every wracking convulsion and howling scream bringing Remus one step closer, every one making Padfoot flinch and whine as though an identical torment was being inflicted upon him.

Ginny had never witnessed a transformation before, and the other three had only seen it in reverse once, when Remus had become Moony, and they had been understandably otherwise distracted, with Ron actually unconscious for half of it. They stared in dumb, awestruck sympathy as the wolf, by excruciatingly slow, agonizing degrees, became more and more human, the howls and snarls becoming recognisable screams and cries until, eventually, Remus turned his head towards his mate and held out an arm, shaking with exertion.

Before the arm could drop back to the floor, Padfoot nosed his great shaggy head under it and then it was Sirius who was lying at his lover's side, pulling the exhausted, spent man towards him and cradling the trembling body to his chest as tenderly as a mother with her newborn child, stroking the sweating head, easing the abused, aching muscles, rubbing the liquid fire out of the tortured bones and murmuring soft endearments to him, so soft that the words were indecipherable to the others. He spared them a quick glance and mouthed "Okay" with a brief nod.

Instantly, the four younger wizards stood before him. They remained watching Sirius soothe Remus for a short moment, then Harry approached tentatively and knelt down on the ground next to them. He slowly stretched out his hand and touched Remus' hair. Sirius looked up at him and smiled. "He'll be alright now, love. I'm sorry. Bit of a shock for you, wasn't it?" Sirius spoke softly so as not to disturb the still trembling but now sleeping Remus.

Harry's eyes were burning, and he blinked rapidly to force back hot tears. "I...I had...no idea," he breathed. "All the times I've watched you both go out at dusk, and waited until you brought him back in the morning. I just...I **knew** it was painful. I mean, he's told us that himself, but...this?" He shook his head sorrowfully. "I...fuck it, Sirius...I had absolutely no idea. Is it always like this?"

"Usually." Sirius turned his attention back to Remus' face, which was now regaining some of it's usual serenity, but was as pale as milk, huge shadows lining his closed eyes, lips cracked and bleeding where he'd bitten them in the hell of transformation. "Sometimes not so bad, sometimes worse. It was a lot worse before Severus' potion, but he's still dangerous when he actually transforms. He can't help it. It's the pain, you see. It just..." He stopped talking to place a ghost of a kiss on the sweat-sheened brow, and Harry saw that the tears which he had conquered had migrated to his godfather's eyes. Harry turned to look at the other three who still stood, uncertain, unwilling to move away but not knowing what to do. He stood and crossed to them, taking Ginny in his arms, a small, dry sob escaping his lips.

"You okay, mate?" Ron slapped his best friend on the back. He knew how much Harry loved Remus and Sirius, and could guess what this fresh revelation would do to him. Harry nodded unconvincingly and managed a shaky, weak as water smile, before repeating, "I had no idea. I don't think I've ever felt so..." He paused.

"Helpless?" offered Hermione.

"Frustrated?" from Ron.

"Terrified?" Ginny murmured as she wrapped her arms more tightly around him.

"...Humble," finished Harry simply, glancing back round to where both men were still lying, Remus unconscious, Sirius so wrapped up in him that Harry doubted if he was even aware that they were still there.

He'd often teased Sirius for being so protective of his mate, pointing out that Remus was more than capable of taking care of himself, Sirius and Harry with one elegant hand tied behind his dangerously deceptive slim back, and by the same token, could cause them both some serious damage, should he so choose. He used to paraphrase the tag line of a Muggle movie: "Sirius Black carries a lethal weapon, Remus Lupin **is** one". But now he thought he understood. Remus' current abject, complete vulnerability and Sirius' utter love and devotion touched them all deeply, and he felt a fierce wave of the same love and protectiveness wash over him.

He tried to imagine how he would react if it were Ginny who was blighted with the curse of lycanthropy. The thought chilled him to the very marrow. To have to watch...that...every four weeks. To watch your heart and soul being ripped to shreds, remolded like so much sentient clay, by the gleaming, silver fingers of a cruel goddess for her own sport, dancing to the whim of the heavens. How did either man endure it? He saw movement to his right as Ron tightened his hold on Hermione, and Harry knew that his friend was having the same thoughts.

His eyes darkened in sudden grief and anger as he thought of Tamar. How had **she** endured it, every moon for the last two years? He loved the wild, dark haired, golden eyed, laughing tomboy who would regularly greet him on his visits by literally throwing herself bodily onto him from the hidden recesses of one of the trees in Arabella's orchard, and the thought of her in pain tortured his mind. He knew that she would have opened her eyes without the reassurance of Sirius' softened, concerned gaze or the welcome, unspoken empathy shining from the exhausted yet loving golden eyes of her pack brother, and that hurt him beyond contemplation.

"Harry." Sirius' low, soft voice made him jump slightly and he crossed back to kneel at his godfather's side again.

"What can I do?"

Sirius shifted slightly, taking care not to disturb Remus as he reached up to ruffle his godson's hair. "I'm not sure exactly where we are, love. We seem to have travelled a bit off the beaten track. Could one of the lovebirds find the way back home for us? And I'll need someone to get Remus some clothes - robes, H., not jeans. They're easier for him to get on. There should be a clean set in our room. And if one of you could manage a coffee for him, strong as pitch, black, no sugar..."

"We're on it!" Relieved to be able to do something, they all sprang into action. Ron and Hermione both took to the sky, Ginny transforming into the vixen to follow them on foot. Harry hung back for a moment.

"Sirius. I'm sorry we saw Remus like that. I know we weren't supposed to. But...I'm glad we did as well."

Sirius nodded and smiled. "So am I, love. And thank you."

By the time they returned with robes and coffee, Remus was awake, but neither man had moved. They were still lying there, Sirius' hands still stroking and soothing, talking quietly to each other as the four moved into the clearing. Hermione was carrying the coffee since her nerves were the steadiest and nobody else thought they could carry it without spilling some. Sirius took the mug from her with a quiet word of thanks and held it to his lover's lips. Remus sipped slowly, sighing as the strong, hot liquid eased down his throat and warmed his body slightly. It was a warm morning, but Remus was always cold after transformation. It had little or nothing to do with his nakedness. He lifted his hand to the hot mug, placing his fingers over Sirius' own and murmuring his own gratitude to Hermione. Sirius coaxed the coffee down him until the mug was drained, and only then did he turn his attention to the robes which Harry held.

The four younger wizards moved away, slightly out of sight while Sirius helped Remus to dress, and waited until the two appeared, walking slowly, Remus leaning heavily on his mate. He looked round at them all and gave a bone-tired but genuine smile.

"You may not believe this," he said, glancing down at himself ruefully, "but last night was...well, it was wonderful. Thank you. I'm sorry if I scared you this morning. I just got carried away." He was almost dropping from pain and exhaustion, but his eyes, although heavy, held a gleam. All four of them felt honoured at the possibility that they could have been responsible for placing it there.

~~~~~~~

He looked down without expression at the dying form before him. This one could not last more than a few more hours and, while he was unrecognisable in his present adopted identity, he needed a new one to enable him to slip through the forced evacuation which he knew was coming.

He knew it, just as much as Pettigrew did. He'd heard Weasley's mutterings the previous night, and he smirked. Oh so clever Percy Weasley who thought his wards were secure as he spoke to his pathetic Muggle loving father.

He'd been waiting for this ever since he'd arranged the girl's abduction. She was next to useless to him anyway since she could not provide the whelps he needed. She was bait. Werewolf bait. She would draw him in. He thought she would have been located far quicker than this, but if the rumours he'd heard at the time of her abduction were true, then Lupin was hardly in a fit state to play the hero. Weasley thought he was doing the girl a favour. He smiled with ironic humour. He was just setting up the final play for a game which had started nearly twenty five years ago. A game which he swore he would win.

They all thought he was dead, and he preferred it that way. It was not yet time to reveal himself. But that time would come. He would wait, as his master had done before. But he would not have to rely on the goodwill of others to provide him with a body. The one he used currently had served its purpose. In fact, it was in far better condition now than it had been when its previous owner had carelessly allowed it to be plundered.

No. He relied on himself, and **only** on himself. Reliance upon others only led to vulnerability, and vulnerability was fatal. His son had relied too much on the loyalty and love of a father who could provide neither, so he had perished. His master, for all his undoubted power, relied too heavily on the wrong sort and when his day of final reckoning came, their support was found wanting. So **he** had perished.

And the fools he had left behind, wandering aimlessly like sheep that had lost their shepherd - they had no direction. They couldn't act without instruction, and their rulebook had been ripped up as surely as the Dark Lord's soul. They didn't even know why they were still here, why they still carried out the Master's orders. He was the only one left among the ranks who knew what the plans were for the werewolves. He needed as many as possible left alive. He needed them to breed. For the future.

Well, he could wait. In his entire life he had only ever feared three people. Two of them, his father and his master, were dead. There was only one left. And if Pettigrew's inane ravings were to be heeded, he would be coming soon. Then, he would strike. And when he had nobody left alive to distract him, to cause him fear, he would rise.

Weasley would be easily dealt with. Then he would take out the rest of the abomination that called itself his family. He would leave the father till last, snatching the children one by one, then his wife, then him.

He opened the cuffs which were fastened around the dying werewolf's wrists, grimacing in distaste at the unwashed smell and the dried blood. His fastidious nature made him mentally recoil at the necessity of adopting this form. However, it would only be for a short time, and he would be nursed back to health by the best mediwizards Dumbledore could hire, after all. It was only the outward appearance. What was inside remained the same.

He checked the large clock on the wall. His sleeping wards would last for about another hour. It was just as well that he kept the polyjuice potion readily prepared for such contingencies. He would just have time to conceal this one, remove as much hair as he would need for a medium to long term transformation, and return to the dormitory for a few days of discomfort.

And what was a few days of discomfort to a lifetime's glory. Even physically weakened he would be able to perform curses. He would conceal his wand about his person somewhere. After all, once he killed the werewolf, the rest of his little band of brothers should be no great problem.

He lifted the body and left the dormitory.

~~~~~~~

Monday's meeting went on longer than anticipated and they were still there at six o'clock. Sirius kept flashing concerned glances at Remus who, to the unknowing eye looked perfectly fine. Sirius knew he was still bone tired and wished he'd held out for a Wednesday departure. He'd been using the table to support his weight far too often for Sirius' liking, and his reassuring smiles when he caught his mate's concerned blue eyes on him did nothing to allay Sirius' unease.

"Right," said Remus, straightening up and running a hand through his touselled hair. "I think we're pretty much sorted. Siri, you've got all of Severus' offerings that Neville won't be taking himself." Sirius nodded. He'd been back to see Severus on the previous day while Remus had been sleeping to add an item or two of his own to the list.

"Ron, Hermione and Ginny. You're external surveillance when we get there. At least we can now carry out a proper outside sweep thanks to your arial abilities. They won't notice a pair of eagles as out of place the way they would a levitating human, which is how the Ministry used to deal with this sort of thing." He raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly as Sirius muttered, "Dickheads!" "Ginny, you'll be covering at ground level, of course." The three nodded and he smiled again at his new running mates.

"Harry, you and Neville concentrate on assessing the women and children. You'll have our contact to help you too, whoever he is. I just hope he knows what he's damn well doing. Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee," and here he indicated the twins, "once you've sorted the pyrotechnics - and for the gods sake give us long enough to get out," The twins looked hurt, until they saw Remus smiling at them. They were damned good at what they did, for all their arseing about. They took pride in a job well done, whether that was a couple of fireworks for the local kids or blowing up a mansion, as in this instance, " - then you can go and help Harry and Neville. We'll need to move them quickly and carefully. We don't know what sort of condition they'll be in and we don't want them distressed or hurt." Remus addressed the last part of this speech directly to Neville.

"I understand, Boss. I promise."

Sirius smiled down at the ground at the use of the term of address which all of them except for Harry, Ron and Hermione had adopted for his mate. None of them had trouble addressing him as Sirius, but they all felt Remus' innate authority and although he would have happily accepted the use of his first name from all of them, they prefered the informal yet still respectful 'Boss'. Sirius raised his eyes back to look fondly on his mate as he spoke again. Remus was a natural leader; charismatic, precise, fiercly devoted to and protective of all those under his care, never asking anybody to do anything he wouldn't. Sirius didn't know how much of it was Remus and how much the wolf, but most people his lover dealt with would follow him to the ends of the earth. Sirius would follow him beyond that, without question.

"Thanks, Neville. I know you'll do what you can." He rubbed a tired hand across his face. "Oh, and by the way, nobody but Sirius,- and I mean **nobody** \- carries silver. Unless Sirius had okayed it, in which case he'll tell me. I don't want any unnecessary incidents." He gave his mate a loaded glance. Sirius' eyes darkened and he looked down at his feet before nodding, unsmiling. Remus reached out a hand and stroked his arm. Sirius didn't look up.

George hadn't been concentrating. "Why?" he asked. Fred hit him, but Remus decided to encourage the diversion.

"Because it makes me...uncomfortable."

"What, even if you don't touch it?"

"I don't usually even have to **see** it. So long as we're in the same room, it lets me know it's there. Unless it's wrapped in dragonhide."

"Cool! A bit like an early warning system?"

Remus shrugged. "Pretty much. For instance, a few of you are giving off - vibes - now, and although it's not much, and I'm not generally that sensitive from this sort of distance, we've been cooped up in here for quite a while and my bones are starting to sing." He grinned, "It's not a particularly pleasant song, either."

"Can you tell who, and what?"

"I can tell who, usually what and, more importantly, where."

"Ooooh, do us, do us!" Both twins bounced excitedly like the five year olds their mother often swore they still were.

Sirius laughed out loud, and Remus glanced back at him, grateful to Fred and George for lifting him slightly out of his brooding. Sirius caught his eye, mouthed "I love you", and Remus grinned and nodded.

"You two!" he turned back to the twins. "If I weren't a gay werewolf, I might not only misinterpret your invitation, but be able to act on it too." George pouted suggestively, blowing kisses and dodging the slap across the head that Remus only half-aimed at him.

"And if he weren't an **already mated** gay werewolf, then I might just have to kill you right where your pretty little arses stand," added Sirius, smiling sweetly. Remus laughed and patted his cheek indulgently. Sirius took his hand, kissed it and squeezed it slightly. "Go on then, love. Show 'em your party trick. No, **not** the rude one. Go sniff silver."

Remus walked from chair to chair. "Hermione, something on your jumper under your jacket."

Hermione blushed with a muttered "Sorry, Remus." Ron dug her in the ribs.

"Ron." Remus' eyes widened as a delighted smirk crossed his features. "Oh, Ron, you kinky little sod." Ron blushed crimson. Hermione suddenly seemed to develop an urgent need to delve into her bag for something. Fred and Sirius both opened their mouths to ask the inevitable question, but Remus saw Fred and shut them both up by holding up a hand to stall while he passed to the next chair.

"Harry, clean. But I would expect nothing less. It's probably second nature to you by now. Ginny, clean..." He stopped short, and stared directly at Ginny, a genuine smile of utter pleasure and surprise on his face. Sirius looked up at the small lull, just in time to see Ginny blanch and give a tiny shake of her head. Ah, well. Whatever it was, Remus would tell him later.

Remus saw the look too and felt a brief wave of panic emanating from Ginny. He let it go. He'd talk to her later. "Yes, yes clean. Thanks Harry." Harry looked smug. He'd searched Ginny personally before the meeting, which was why she was clean of silver, and also had something to do with them being a little late and a lot flustered by the time they had got there. Yes, Hermione decided. Harry didn't just look smug. He **was** damned smug. Hermione stuck out her tongue in a decidedly childish act of indulgence.

Remus had reached the twins. "Right, I'll do you two together." He rolled his eyes at their expressions. "Oh, fuck. Yes, Fred, the werewolf stamina thing is true as well as the silver thing. No, George, that is **not** what I had in mind with my original statement. And no, I cannot read minds. Now..." He rubbed his hands together. "Let's discover your sordid secrets. Right - Fred, both nipples pierced, George only the left one..."

"Ah, shite!" said George, "It's fallen out again!" He started looking around the floor.

"Well, unless you've had your navel pierced, and unless your navel is in a disturbingly irregular place, I'd check inside your shirt, round about there." He pointed in the general direction. "Also, you've both got sickles in your front pockets; Fred left, George right."

"Nah," came back Fred. "We're just really, **really** glad to see you, Boss." Sirius growled in mock warning. Remus decided to ignore both of them.

"How many?" asked George.

"I'm not that sodding good!" was his reply.

He went to walk past Neville, then did a double take and gaped at him in open and completely unfeigned amazement. "Neville?"

"It was a dare. Honest." There was still enough of the shy boy in Neville for him to blush deepest scarlet.

"I'm impressed!" Remus executed a mock bow.

He crossed back to Sirius, laughing. Sirius grinned at him, quirking an eyebrow questioningly. "I'll tell you later," he said with a wink.

"Damn straight you will. And why did you let on about the fucking stamina? They already think we're Superman clones. They'll raise us to god status now!" Sirius hissed.

Now Remus quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think so, love. Anyway, last I checked, only **one** of us was a werewolf." Remus was about to growl to prove his point and render Sirius incapable of appropriate comeback in polite society, when he saw Fred and George both raise their hands. "Yes?" he asked, warily.

"Who's Superman, oh Divinity?" Remus threw a balled up piece of parchment at them, laughing. Then he said. "Right, people. We start early in the morning and we all need to be rested. Unless anyone has anything more?" Nobody did so he dismissed them with a nod. Fred and George paused at the door for one more moment to ask if they wouldn't mind not telling Molly about the nipples, and then they were alone.

Remus was still laughing, but he sagged into Sirius' arms as his mate drew him close. "That was fun. You should've let me do the elephant impersonation though."

Sirius refused to be pulled into another joke. He'd stopped laughing and was looking with deep concern into Remus' eyes. "I shouldn't have let you sniff silver. It's too soon after the moon. We should put this off another day or two love."

"Siri, I'm fine."

"Your hands are shaking." And Sirius took them into his own.

"I'll be okay. I'm just a bit tired. They needed it. It broke the tension for a while."

"And what about you? What about what you need, Remus? Always the Alpha. Always concerned for the pack's welfare. What about your welfare?"

"I have to be concerned for them. You know that. You **know** how I am."

"Oh, love." Sirius dropped Remus' hands to take him into his arms again. "I wish, just sometimes, you'd let me do the 'Alphaing'. Because I can, you know."

"You look after me, my love. And I wouldn't have anybody else do it."

They stood in silence for a moment, then Remus said softly, as he raised his hand to caress the back of his mate's head,

"Silver dagger, right boot."

"You know it is. Does it bother you?"

"No. It's...comforting. Soothing almost."

"Soothing?"

"Because **you** carry it."

"I don't intend to use it."

"You might have to. If I..."

"You won't."

"I might."

"Then I'll use it."

Remus nodded. Then he whispered, "I'd wait for you."

Sirius tightened his hold. "I know. You wouldn't have to wait long."

"I know. I love you."

"I know. I love you."

A last tight bearhug and a soul searing kiss, then they broke apart. As they were leaving the room, Sirius suddenly remembered something.

"Erm. Rem...Neville?"

Remus sniggered. "Cock ring."

"No! Ron?"

"Same."

"Ginny?"

"I need to speak to her. I can't tell you, but you'll know soon enough, Granddad."

A **long** pause. "Fuck!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too."

~~~~~~~

Sirius made his way in brooding silence through the darkened corridors. His mind, for the moment, was back in the bedchamber where he had left Remus sleeping. He was glad of it, since there was no denying his lover's obvious fatigue.

Sirius hadn't wanted to make love that night - no, that wasn't true. There was never a time when he didn't want his beloved Remus either in him or around him, to feel that beautiful, strong, lithe body moving in perfect tempo with his own, and tonight had been no exception. But tonight there had been a quiet, unspoken desperation in the way they had clung to each other which had hung heavy in the air around them. It had been there in the way Remus' legs had gripped his waist, in the way his hands had covered every inch of his body, as though in frustration at not being able to touch all of him at once. It had been in Remus' passion-roughened voice when he cried Sirius' name as he came, hard and hot, into his mouth. It had blazed with supernova fury in his eyes as he had watched Sirius' own, soul-melting climax. And it had been there in the quiet tears which both men had shed as they had held each other afterwards.

Sirius recognised the signs. Remus would dream tonight. His mind would be plunged without mercy into a pit of anger, fear and madness. And he would awaken screaming his terror, sorrow and remorse for events, recent and long gone, over which he'd had no control. Sirius quickened his pace. He needed to get back to Remus. But first, he needed a favour.

He reached his destination and held a hand, palm outwards, to the door for a moment, softly muttering an incantation. Nodding briefly with satisfaction as he realised that the only occupants of the room were those he sought, he knocked then, raising his voice slightly, said, "It's Sirius."

There was a pause of a few seconds during which Sirius could just detect faint questioning murmurs, then the door was opened a fraction and one of the twins - Sirius couldn't see enough of him yet to determine which one - peered out. "Sirius?" It was Fred. "Yes, of course. Come in." He opened the door to admit him and closed it again as Sirius walked into the room.

George glanced up from his seat at a table covered with gadgets which Sirius didn't recognise for the most part, but were obviously Muggle in origin. He had a quip ready and waiting on the tip of his tongue, but one look at the expression on Sirius' face, along with the slight, wide-eyed shake of his brother's head, stopped him.

"What is it?" he asked as Fred pulled up another chair between his brother's and the one he had vacated to answer the door. Sirius sat down and regarded the twins for a moment while he pondered how he was going to put his request to them. He reached forwards and picked up a small pineapple-shaped object from the table, turning it in his hands idly. George took it back off him with a gentle hand and a smiling shake of his head.

"Erm...you don't want to play with that little toy," he said, wryly. "Trust me." Sirius relinquished it with a questioning eyebrow. "We call 'em Mollies, in honour of mum. Harmless as long as you know how to handle them. Otherwise... **boom**!" He made a gesture with his hands to demonstrate the resulting explosion.

Sirius felt the pressure of Fred's hand on his shoulder, prompting him.

"I...erm...I need to ask you something. A favour. But before you say 'yes', I need to tell you why." He looked down at his now empty hands and started turning his handfasting ring round and round on his finger, a gesture both twins recognised as something he only did when he was deeply concerned about Remus. They exchanged a quick glance, then Fred patted the shoulder on which his hand still lay. "Go on," he urged gently.

Sirius sighed, then raised his head to look first at Fred, then George. His eyes held a gratitude to them, probably for realising that now was not the appropriate time for 'twinning around' as they referred to their own activities. Also, Sirius looked tired, although given the late hour that was probably to be expected. What touched them to the core was the concern, anxiety and deep sadness that they saw there. As well as a degree of abject helplessness which alarmed them both.

"You know..." he started, "...you **both** know that Remus and I have been practically inactive since just before the end of the last war." He paused while both nodded. "Well, I realise that, at the time, there was a lot of...speculation as to why we didn't stick around to see the Dark Bastard finished off." Again, both twins nodded. They'd wondered themselves. Remus and Sirius had been notorious for seeing a job through, carrying on when everybody else had finished. They were renowned for making sure that there were no loose ends to tie up.

Sirius sighed again, and looked back down at his ring. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and slightly shaky. "We **had** to leave when we did. We hadn't had much time to recover since I'd got out of Azkaban. I was tired, edgy. I was still ill...still not quite right...in the head. Remus' was..." He covered his face with his hands for an instant, still fighting an inner battle against a confession which might alter the way his lover was regarded by some of those who loved him.

"Remus **seemed** to be fine, and any attention thrown our way was given to me, because of...that place. Remus didn't mind. He encouraged it. I don't think he even realised himself." He shook his head and threw it back so he was staring at the ceiling. " **I** didn't fucking realise it!" he ground out between clenched teeth. The twins glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. George raised a hand to Sirius' other shoulder. "What, Sirius?"

"He...blames himself. For everything. You have to understand that Remus doesn't...think...like most of us. It's what he **is** \- the wolf in him. He has to...protect everyone around him, everyone he loves. He blames himself because, in his mind, he didn't protect James and Lily, didn't protect Harry, or me. He didn't protect Tamar, didn't protect the ones we loved who died at Hogwarts. It all just...built up. Bit by bit, eating away at him." He stopped again, lowered his head and muttered into his hands. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. I **should** have seen it!"

Fred spoke. "But, Sirius. It's not his fault. None of it. And it's not your fault either. He tried. Shit Sirius you both did. Nobody could've done more." Sirius looked up into the twins' worried, earnest faces.

"But it still happened, didn't it? And he still blames himself, for letting his pack down when it needed him. That's what it boils down to. And nothing you or I say to him will make any difference. He's afraid it's going to happen again. He's so scared, so fucking **terrified** that he'll hurt someone..."

"He wouldn't hurt any of us, though Sirius. We **know** he wouldn't."

"But that's just the problem. He might."

"What, actually hurt us? I mean, physically...? Re...I mean. Fuck it Sirius, that just doesn't make sense."

Sirius stood up and started pacing the room. "Look. I'm skating round the fucking edges of it all here, and I need to tell you. Yes. Remus might actually, physically hurt you. Shit, lads, he could have you skinned and gutted before you could lift a finger to save yourselves. And I **know** he could..." He held a hand to ward off any argument, and his voice dropped to a whisper, "...because I've seen him do it." He spun round to the stunned twins and almost laughed at the incredulous expressions on the frozen faces before him. He contented himself with a humourless grin and an apologetic shrug of the shoulders.

"I'm sorry. It's just not that easy to...explain. I don't talk about it often, not even with Remus. We don't need to. We just know." He sighed.

"Okay. We'd been sent out...d'you know, I can't even remember where any more. All I know is it was another supreme cock up on behalf of the damn fool Minstry. There were about two dozen of us to start off with, and we'd been fighting all day.

We were tired. There was smoke everywhere and curse residue making us puke. You could hardly see your hand in front of your face. Remus and I got separated." The twins eyebrows shot up. It **must** have been bad. Sirius saw the gesture.

"Yeah, it was a bit hot. Anyway...I took a hit to the arm...some sort of burning curse. It wasn't too serious but it hurt like hell so I needed it seeing to. While they were seeing to me, another of our lot got brought in." Sirius' face twisted in grief and agony. "He...his abdomen...it...oh, shit it was a mess...ripped open. They saved him...they **did** save him, but only just. Then...Remus...it took four of them to stun him. They brought him in and I looked at him. He wasn't wounded. There was nothing...no cuts, no burns. Then I...I...looked at his...hands. I thought he'd been injured, thought he'd cut them somehow. Then I realised...oh, fuck. It was **Remus**. He'd...done that...to the other guy."

The total silence in the room made Sirius think that the twins had either left or fallen asleep. When he turned to check, they were still frozen in the same places as before. ~No, no. You've **got** to understand. This is **Remus**. It's still Remus.~ He drew in a deep breath to steady himself, and continued.

"They told me, before he woke up. One of the others had hair a bit like mine, apparently. He'd taken a direct AvKad. Didn't stand a chance. Remus saw him and...he thought it was me. He...went...he... **frenzied**. And this poor bastard was just in the way." He shut his eyes tight, mentally willing the twins to understand, willing himself to get the explanation right.

"It wasn't his fault. We were too tired. It was a fucking madhouse. There was smoke and bodies and fucking blood everywhere. He couldn't scent me. It was too much for him. He was scared and angry and alone and fucking **ill**...so damn fucking ill, and he never told anybody, never told me. Just let them keep on churning us out like good little tin fucking soldiers. Play for a while then back in your box. No questions, no complaints...just stay there till next time."

Again, there was complete and utter silence. Fred and George looked at each other, completely aghast. Then, as one, they rose and approached Sirius, each laying a hand once again on a shaking shoulder. Sirius started slightly when he felt the pressure, then relaxed and put an arm around each twin, drawing them closer to him.

"So," George licked dry lips, and his voice felt as though it didn't quite belong to him. "What do you want us to do?"

Sirius looked at them and withdrew his arms with a muttered apology, which both twins waved off. He indicated the abandoned chairs and they all sat again, in the same places as before. When Sirius spoke again, it was quiet, but calm.

"What I need to ask is...do you still carry those Muggle pistols?"

"Yes," nodded Fred.

"Okay. I went to see Severus yesterday, while Remus was sleeping off the moon. I asked him to make me some silver bullets." He ignored the double gasp. He had to get this out now, or he'd lose his nerve altogether. "I want you to take your guns to him early in the morning and he'll charm the bullets to fit. Then, you keep the guns loaded with the bullets. If anything happens to me...if he frenzies again...I need you to kill him. He couldn't live with himself if he hurt anybody, especially not one of the 'family'. Really, you'd be **saving** him."

"Shit, Sirius."

"Look, I understand. If you can't do this, say now. If I'm okay and can get to him, I will do. If anything else makes him go, I'll kill him myself. I've promised him that. But, if I can't..."

They exchanged yet another glance. They didn't need words.

"We'll do it, Sirius."

He put his head back and closed his eyes with a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

He didn't stay long after that. He bid the twins a subdued goodnight and made his way swiftly back to Remus. He was still asleep, peaceful for the time being.

Sirius slipped gently into bed beside his mate, lay on his side, supporting his head on his hand, and for a long time, until the screams started, he watched Remus' face, peaceful in repose.


	7. 06

(Almost five years ago - late August)

The morning sun was not yet over the lightening horizon as Padfoot reached the camp site on the side of the hill. It was deserted, but had recently been occupied, the scent of its sole occupant was easily detectable to the black dog amid the secrecy wards cast so that the camp and its contents would be visible only to those whom the caster chose. The dog paused for a moment to savour the scent, then passed on.

Padfoot knew that the lone figure, standing silhouetted against the predawn at the top of the hill, hair lifting in the early morning breeze, was the man he sought. He was facing east, away from the dog's earnest gaze, and Padfoot huffed softly in his throat. He continued up the hill, transforming smoothly and without pause en route, a smile slowly growing upon his lips, almost as though they had to be reminded how, never once taking his eyes from the vision ahead of him. The vision which, except for one evening of madness and confusion over twelve months ago, had existed only in his head and heart for fourteen years. The vision who was his best and oldest friend, his lover, his mate, his life and his soul.

Remus.

As Sirius approached slowly, Remus turned his head a little to the side and raised his chin slightly. Sirius could just make out a closed eye and the slightest of smiles on his lips. With a thrill of remembrance he realised that Remus was scenting him.

There had been times when they were teenagers when Sirius had jokingly proposed banning Remus from all 'hide and seek' themed games.

"No damn fair!" he'd protested time and time again as his tawny haired friend had dragged him in mere seconds from what he'd considered an untraceable hiding place. "Unfair advantage - you and your damned wolfy nose!" Remus had laughed then. "Nothing to do with my 'wolfy nose' as you put it. You should just shower more bloody often!" Remus had always let Sirius win the mock battle which had usually ensued.

Sirius was tired of battles, mock or otherwise.

Infinitely more calmly at this moment than he'd imagined he would feel, he walked up behind Remus and wound his arms around his lover's slim form, trapping Remus' arms above the elbows. With the faintest of sighs, Remus raised his hands and tucked them over Sirius' forearms. "Good morning," he said softly.

Sirius buried his face into his mate's hair for a moment, nuzzling just behind one ear, taking in Remus' own scent - willing it into his very pores. He'd never been able to break down the individual components, and he couldn't now. It was just uniquely, blessedly Remus. He rested his chin on his lover's shoulder after kissing it lightly and they both faced the rising sun.

"Were you going to watch it without me, angel?"

"I knew you'd be here. You always have been."

"I always will be, love. So long as you are."

Remus lifted one hand to cradle Sirius' cheek against his own. Sirius relaxed his hold on his mate's arms just enough so that Remus could reach easily.

"Thank you for your letters. They were beautiful."

Sirius gave a huff of self-deprecating amusement. "They were hastily scribbled notes on tatty bits of parchment, love."

"I read the hidden words."

"As I did yours."

"I missed you, Siri. I love you." Remus' voice shook by the merest degree.

"I know, sweetheart. I love you too."

"I know."

Sirius gently turned Remus towards him. Their foreheads touched and each ran his hands around the other's waist.

"You're too thin." Remus frowned slightly with concern.

"That's because half of me's been missing for fourteen years." Sirius raised a hand to Remus' chin and tilted it slightly. Their eyes met - truly met in a melding of gold and blue flame - and each tumbled in a freefall of emotion into the other's gaze.

"Remus. Oh, my beautiful Remus," Sirius whispered.

The only sound that escaped Remus' lips was a gasped sob. Then, their lips met, gently, tenderly, and moved against each other slowly, gradually parting for their tongues to entwine, almost tentatively, shyly at first as their bodies moved closer together, until each could feel the other's heartbeat, each could feel the rise and fall of the other's ribcage as they breathed the same air, and each could feel the other's obvious arousal.

They moaned softly into each other's mouth, then Sirius pulled back slightly, causing Remus to whimper, until he placed a fingertip onto his lips. "I remember this," he said, wonderingly. "Make me remember it all Remus. I want to remember it. Bring me home love. Here. Now. I've been so fucking lonely. So cold without you. I need to be warm. Need your warmth - your fire. I want to burn with your heat."

The ice-fire eyes brimmed with diamond tears, but instead of quenching the storm that raged in their depths, they stirred it. Remus gasped at the sheer physical beauty of the man before him; stunningly, achingly beautiful in his vulnerability and trembling passion.

He ran a shaking hand through the thick, black hair, which flowed over and around his fingers like satin, an obsidian waterfall, the early morning sunshine giving it a caste of midnight blue. "I want this on my skin," the werewolf murmured. Then he moved his hand to take hold of one of Sirius' own. "I want this to caress my body." He dropped the hand and trailed his fingertips lightly over Sirius' mouth. "I want this at my throat." Then, he ran both hands down Sirius' arms. "I want these to hold you over me, so that I can look up into these," and he kissed Sirius' closed eyelids, tasting the salt of his mate's tears, "as this," his voice dropped to the merest whisper as his fingers brushed against the fabric covering Sirius' erection, "takes us **both** home, together."

Sirius tipped his head back, his eyes still closed, more tears leaking out. "Oh, yes love. Yes," he moaned.

Remus said no more, but took Sirius' hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Then he led them back down to the camp site and into the seemingly ordinary Muggle tent. But, in the way of many 'seemingly ordinary' Muggle items in the hands of wizards, this was more than it seemed.

Remus led Sirius to the four poster double bed set in the middle of a wood-panelled, candlelit chamber with high ceilings and a feeling of quiet opulence. The bed itself was covered with a heavy quilt of royal blue brocade, which was echoed in the drapes on the bed's high canopy. The air was scented, an aroma which Sirius knew he had always loved, but couldn't place. On the bedside table there was a huge crystal bowl, overflowing with fruit. Sirius recognised grapes and pears, but had to struggle to recall cherries and...yes, nectarines. He gave up trying to identify the vaguely heart shaped red fruits. It would come back to him. He walked slowly over a picked one of the mystery fruits up, turning it in his hand, running the pad of his thumb lightly over it, feeling the texture, the small indentations where the seeds where embedded into the crimson surface. He raised it to his lips and bit the end off it, closing his eyes with a small cry of pleasure at the explosion of the sweet flavour on his tongue. He turned to Remus holding the uneaten half between his thumb and forefinger, but the question died on his lips.

Remus had undressed while Sirius was in the thrall of the fruitbowl, and was now kneeling on the bed, his hands on his knees, watching Sirius in silence, a half-smile on his face, eyes glowing with love, tenderness and gentle sorrow at Sirius' childlike confusion as he watched his mate.

"It's a strawberry, love," he said softly, not wanting Sirius to think him patronising or condescending. "Is it good?"

Sirius nodded slowly, unable and unwilling to tear his eyes from his mate, watching the effects of the candlelight as it played upon Remus' naked body, throwing him into a relief of gold and alabaster, light and shadow, peaks and dips, his beautiful silver-honey hair burnished golden in the soft glow. But not as golden as his eyes, which needed no reflected light for them to shine. They held an inner fire of their own making, and suddenly Sirius remembered, realised what Remus had done.

"It's our wedding bed," he said slowly, taking the hand which Remus now held out to him. "This...all of it. It's our wedding."

Remus closed his eyes in affirmation and his smile widened.

"And you..." Sirius continued, "...I came out of the bathroom...Oh, gods I was so nervous...and you were there, just as you are now. And I thought that you were the most beautiful, perfect being I had ever seen in my entire life." Remus opened his eyes and arched a tawny brow at him. "And you were, love. But that seventeen year old boy, as beautiful and perfect as he was to me then, pales next to what you are now." Sirius let go of Remus hand and touched his cheek. "Oh, sweet Hecate, but you are stunning," he breathed.

Remus turned his head to place a kiss on Sirius' palm. "And are you still nervous, Siri?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes," Sirius admitted on a whisper. "And you are so calm, just as you were then. You made it so absolutely perfect for me."

Remus shook his head and took hold of the hand at his face, holding it against his cheek. "No, love," he murmured. "I wasn't calm then, and I'm far from it now. We made it right for each other. When you first came to me, I was so scared. I remember feeling stupid - we'd known for so long that it would happen, damn, I **wanted** it so much. I wanted it to be perfect for you, just as I do now. But when I saw you crossing that floor to me that night...Oh, by all the sweet gods, I thought I would come right then just looking at you, you were so very beautiful. And I wondered why in all hells you would want someone like me, even as I thanked all the deities I could think of that you did. You wanted me, just as I wanted you. Do you know just how wonderful that thought was to me? Still **is** to me? It didn't matter any more that neither of us knew what to do. That we fumbled our way through the first couple of times until we learned each other. The learning was perfect, just as the knowledge is."

Sirius sat on the bed, and Remus' hands started on his shirt buttons. They were both shaking with nervous anticipation. Sirius dipped his head to watch Remus working. His voice went very quiet and unsure. "Rem...I..." he blushed and laughed self-consciously. "It...it's been a long time and...well, I...probably won't...last...very long - at first, that is. I mean..."

Remus had finished unbuttoning the shirt and he leaned forwards, covering Sirius' lips with his own as he slid the fabric from Sirius' body, brushing his thumbs along the collarbone and down the long, still thin but toning arms. Sirius groaned into his mouth as his hands went to Remus' hips and he leaned them both over sideways so that they lay across the bed, facing each other.

Remus pulled back from the kiss and stroked his mate's head. "It doesn't matter, Siri. It doesn't matter at all. We'll take all the time we need, love. Because I'll tell you one thing. I am never letting you go again. Now," his smile turned impish and Sirius knew he was trying to lighten both their apprehensions, "are you going to take those, admittedly gorgeous, arse-hugging trousers off, or do I have to rip them off you myself?"

"I'd better do it, if your hands come too near right now, I **really** can't be held responsible for the consequences." Sirius stood up again and after a short battle with his button and zip, due to the sudden, almost uncontrollable shaking in his hands, he managed to remove his trousers without assistance. Remus lay on his side, watching silently; outwardly calm, but the turmoil within was just about under his iron control. Sirius turned back to him, and all of Remus' calm composure dissolved.

"Oh, sweet gods, Siri. I..." He said no more as the two men flung themselves together, hands clutching, stroking, grasping. Mouths which had been so tentative before suddenly urgent, demanding, devouring. They both collapsed in a mad, passionate, trembling, writhing mass onto the bed, arms and legs entwining, crushing against each other, hips thrusting, cocks rubbing together in painful electric ecstacy. Vocal coherency abandoned, they cried and moaned and snarled at each other, sobbing in monosyllabic joy.

"Love...need...miss...you...here...now...never...go...again...die...without...yo u...so...fucking...long..."

Remus threw Sirius onto his stomach, dragging his hips up and positioning himself behind him. How he gathered the willpower to even **think** of lubrication was beyond him, especially with his mate begging him to "just fucking do it - now!" as he was thrusting his arse back onto Remus' only too willing to comply cock. Forcing the merest modicum of sanity into his brain, he reached across and picked up the small tube from beside the fruit bowl.

Vaguely cursing himself for not getting a larger size, he squeezed some onto his palm and quickly slicked it over his cock with one shaking hand while he licked the fingers of the other hand and pressed into Sirius, firmly but more gently than he would have thought himself capable. He moaned when he felt Sirius push back onto his fingers, both of them trembling with long-buried need. ~Fourteen years, it's been fourteen years. Mustn't hurt him, mustn't hurt him~ He looked down at his fingers buried in Sirius and ached to replace them with his tongue. ~No time, no time for that. Later. Right now **need** this~ He withdrew his fingers and the cry of dismay from Sirius tore his soul.

"I'm sorry love. Oh, I'm so sorry." He pressed the head of his cock to Sirius' hole and, with infinite care, pushed forwards into paradise. Oh, all gods, he was hot, and tight, and sweet, and so, so perfect. Remus could feel hot tears of joy falling unhindered down his face and then, when his Siri pushed back to meet him, to welcome him, he sobbed aloud. "Ohhhhhhhh, sweet gods, Sirius!"

Sirius didn't know whether Remus followed his cry with "You're alive" or "You're mine". His cognitive powers weren't working too well. But it didn't matter. The answer was still the same, either way. "Yes, love. Oh, yes my angel." In his times of despair, he never thought he would feel so much a part of his adored mate, or so alive again, and his own tears dropped onto the rich brocade beneath him. Then, as Remus took hold of him at shoulder and hip and bent over him, as he felt his mate's hot breath gasping at his neck, his mate's lips and tongue teasing and teeth closing hard on his skin, as he felt the skin part with an almost unbearable pleasure/pain, as he felt Remus begin to move within him, he remembered what belonging truly was. And with that belonging came the sure and certain faith that he would never be cold, lost or lonely ever again.

~I'm home~.

He thrust himself back with a moan, knowing that this wouldn't take long. Not this time. Maybe next time, but it had been too long, and part of him didn't **want** it to last. And Remus felt so **damn** good in him, filling him perfectly. Sirius knew that, as far as he could, Remus was trying to hold back, and he was grateful. But shit, he just wanted to be ground into the fucking bed, held and claimed and **owned** by his lover. Again and again and again. His hand went to his cock and he heard Remus' warning growl.

"Please, love...Please...Oh, fuck...I **have** to...I **need** to co..."

He was brought up short by slim fingers wrapping themselves around him. His eyes closed and he lifted his head back with a groan of pleasure. Remus was still leaning over his back, and he murmured into his ear. "If you need to, my love, then just do it," then, he bit the earlobe just a little harder than gently.

It only took a couple of strokes for Sirius to obey.

As Remus felt Sirius tighten around him, trapping him in a prison of hot velvet pleasure, and cry his name in a way he'd thought he'd never hear again except in dreams, he felt he would have happily welcomed death at that moment and die regretting nothing. He kept stroking Sirius until he came down, then lifted his hand to his nose and mouth. He inhaled his mate's essence, spilt once again for him, because of him, and he sucked his fingers into his mouth, tasting and savouring this most precious of gifts.

He looked down at Sirius' sweating back. Now that Remus was finally where he truly belonged once again, a feeling of such calm and peace had descended on him, like a blessing from the gods, and his sense of urgency had passed. He ran his hands slowly down Sirius' long spine, making the orgasm-sensitized nerve endings jump under his gently teasing fingertips. He pushed himself once more, deeply and strongly into his mate's beautiful body, then withdrew slowly, gently, almost inhaling the soft sigh which emerged from Sirius' lips. He tilted his head back slightly, and closed his eyes, smiling slightly as he bit his bottom lip.

"Turn over, sweetheart." He sat back, urging Sirius tenderly onto his back. "I want to see you."

Sirius turned and raised his arms to Remus, who went willingly, laying his head into the crook of his lover's shoulder, tracing patterns of his own intricate design on his chest, able for a while to ignore his still unsatisfied condition ~Oh, how can I ever be unsatisfied when I'm with him?~ and lose himself in the utter contentment of being back in the embrace of his reason for being.

Sirius tilted his chin gently and kissed his forehead. "Thank you, love," he whispered.

Remus smiled. "Whatever for? Didn't you know I'd be here, waiting for you? I promised I would."

Sirius kissed him again. "I know you did. But all this..." he drew his hand slowly to encompass the room. "I didn't know if I'd even be able to...if I'd **feel**...and it's all so perfect. And that's because of you. I don't know what I'd do if you were ever not there. And there were times...in Azkaban...when I felt sure that you wouldn't be." He took hold of Remus' hand and raised it to his mouth, kissing the slim fingers and speaking around them. "I asked Albus to keep you safe, love. But I didn't know if he'd be able to. And oh, gods did the Dementors adore that little dilemma!"

Remus shifted slightly so that he was leaning up on Sirius' chest, looking down into his eyes. When he'd last seen them, the fear and dispair had stabbed him to the heart. Now, they blazed again, molten aquamarines set around the deepest black centres, drawing him in to unseen depths. He began to feel the familiar, delicious sensation of drowning as he looked into Sirius' eyes, the deepest, safest seas he had ever sailed.

"Do you need to talk about it?" he asked, his voice so gentle that Sirius nearly wept at the love and concern. He'd been without it for so long that it was almost too much to hear it and see it in Remus' own eyes. Yes, he needed to talk about it. He had so much that he needed to talk about, and he would. To Remus. Only to Remus, because Remus was the only one who would ever be able to bring him through it, safely on the rocky path through the swirling mist of pain and insanity that still rolled and stormed on the edges of his mind, with hands that grabbed at his ankles and threatened to pull him down, screaming and helpless. But not now. Not today. Today he wanted to live, to remember life and love and laughter and sheer happiness - and strawberries. He told Remus as much, not with words, but in the barely concealed haunting that still lay deep within his eyes - in his soul.

"I'm here, whenever you're ready, love." Remus brushed a lock of hair back from Sirius' face and wound it round his fingers while he stretched up and placed a chaste kiss on his lover's lips playing with one of Sirus' nipples with the other hand. Then, he bent his head to replace the nimble fingers with an equally nimble tongue, flicking lightly and occasionally nipping ~who'd have thought **anybody** could have nimble **teeth**?~ The hand which had been in Sirius' hair was now at his hip, stroking and kneading lightly, before moving down to caress his thigh, first outer then slowly moving across the top of his leg, parting his legs to stroke the tender, sensitive skin of his inner thigh with a touch to inflame even the most sated of men.

"I want you inside me again, love," Sirius whispered as he parted his legs wider. "I need to feel you and hear you and watch you."

Remus nodded and rubbed his nose against Sirius'. "Ah, well, since you **insist**..." he teased gently. Then he kissed a quick line of kisses down from the nose, over the throat and chest. He planted a dramatic, sucking, extremely noisy kiss right on Sirius' navel, which made him laugh, at which Remus looked up and gifted him with a dazzling smile which lit up the room and left him temporarily breathless.

"Fuck, but you're a teasing git."

"Oh?" The golden orbs flashed mischief which showed nothing childlike in their intent. "You want... **tease** , now?" And the tawny head bent swiftly to lick up his cock before nipping ever so gently at the head.

"Oh, gods...no...no tease. Please, angel...want you. Just you. In me."

Remus giggled as his mouth sank slowly around Sirius' half-hard cock, enticing it to firmer endeavour with a swirling, skilful tongue.

"Ah, fuck Remus."

"I thought you wanted 'fuck Sirius'" The words were only slightly muffled since Remus had thoughtfully, Sirius thought, raised his lips so they were just covering the tip of his glans.

"I do. I don't care how you do it...don't give a damn what you use, just so long as yo..." There was no more need for words as Remus' fingers entered him firmly, swiftly, yet incredibly gently. Both men moaned loudly, Remus as his abated passion returned full force, leaving him trembling as Sirius pushed down and clenched around his probing fingers, Sirius at the feeling of sheer 'rightness' his mate never failed to bring to him.

Remus scissored his fingers deep within his mate, finding and rubbing the prostate, first gently, then sharply, relishing the moaning and bucking and thrusting as his lover danced for him. He moved around slightly, still working his own unique magic deep inside Sirius' body.

Then, his fingers were gone, but almost before Sirius could register the loss and voice his protest, he felt Remus' tongue in their place, and oh, how could he protest at **this** development. Remus sucked and laved at his entrance as his hand moved back up to play the most incredible game with his cock. He moved his own hand to cover Remus', but set no additional pace. This was a game for two after all, and Sirius was only too willing to play by Remus' rules.

Remus alternated between deep thrusts inside with his tongue, and licks and sucks to the ever ripening ring of muscle. Gods, but the taste and smell and feel of Sirius was ambrosia and nectar to the werewolf. He did nothing to stop or hinder the movements of his lover's hips. He easily kept pace with him, working from instinct and memory. Oh, and the sounds. The moans, cries and snarls. They were angelsong to a soul that had been deprived of their beauty for so long. He needed to see him. Look at his face. The expression there which only he had seen. He needed to watch his Siri come.

He knelt up and, using his thighs as support, he wrapped his free hand around the base of Sirius' back, bringing his lover towards him.

"Oh, Siri. I love you...so very very much." And he was in him, smoothly, painlessly, effortlessly. He gently removed the hand that was stroking Sirius' cock, indicating that his mate should continue by stroking the back of Siri's hand gently. Then, one hand on either of Sirius' hips, he gripped and began moving, slowly and deeply inside him, never breaking rhythm, never taking his eyes away from the loving gaze of his mate.

There were no more words. Words were superfluous. They worked on senses, on the touch of Sirius' free hand at Remus' body, roaming wherever they could reach, and at the feel of Sirius clenching and relaxing around Remus' cock at it moved and stroked and caressed in the soft velvet heaven of his body. The sound of mutual arousal and approaching climax spun in the air and mingled with the scent of their bodies, so thick and heady and intoxicating that they could almost taste it.

And when they came, it was together, their eyes locked, their bodies joined, their combined cries of the other's name mingling in the air, their souls permanently and inextricably entwined.

~~~~~~~

(Present Day)

Tuesday dawned fine, promising good weather for the day. Remus and Sirius had risen to stand at their chamber window to watch the sun rise, or at least to watch the sky lighten since, although their window faced east, either coincidentally or more likely through the machinations of Albus Dumbledore who knew a lot more about them than even **he** was aware, their view of the horizon was hampered by trees. So they had watched the sky pale upwards, through all shades of blue and pink, small clouds caught in a golden lilac sheen as they moved slowly across the sky, stars gradually fading and twinkling out in the encroaching light.

"We'll watch it properly tomorrow, love," murmured Remus as he turned in the circle of Sirius' arms, away from the window, to wrap himself into his lover's warm embrace.

"We will," affirmed Sirius as he buried his face into his mate's neck and nuzzled at the sweet skin just below his ear.

They had bathed together, their movements almost ritualistic as they had lathered and rinsed each other's bodies with infinite care and tenderness, and had gently washed each other's hair. Sirius was gratified to note that Remus seemed less tired, more refreshed, in spite of the nightmare which had indeed disturbed him and sent him flying, sobbing and trembling violently into Sirius' waiting arms.

Their lovemaking had been slow and sweet, neither man consciously setting the pace, surrounded in warm water and each other, and their orgasms had been deep, almost silent, and simultaneous. Afterwards they had towelled each other dry and brushed each other's still-damp hair, tying it back into identical clasps.

They'd congregated in the entrance hall at six thirty, before the main body of the school would be awake. Remus saw Ginny and Harry and left Sirius' side with a gentle squeeze to his hand, to go over to them. He greeted them cheerfully.

"Good morning. Sleep well?" They both nodded affirmatively, Harry smiling fondly at him, Ginny blushing slightly and avoiding direct eye contact. Remus turned his full attention onto Harry for a moment. "Can I borrow Ginny for a bit?"

Harry readily acquiesced, but Remus could see his slight confusion. He gave him a bright grin and touched his finger to his nose. "Nothing to worry about, I promise. But you're not to quiz her afterwards. I'll know if you do." He chuckled and wagged his finger warningly in front of the green eyes. "I would just like to remind you that it is your birthday next month."

Accepting Remus' diversionary non-lie unquestioningly, Harry grinned and stepped away. Remus drew Ginny over to the side wall, his smile never wavering on his lips and not quite leaving his eyes, although a note of concern moved in there too to take up joint residence.

"Well, Ginny?" Remus prompted gently, knowing he wouldn't need to elaborate. She looked up at him, and knew it wasn't worth attempting to fudge her way out. She sighed.

"I only just found out," she muttered. "I was going to tell him, but then all this blew up and I couldn't. Not yet." She stared at him, pleading for understanding. She found it and smiled gratefully.

"It's okay, sweet. I'm not bearing down on you like some irate mother hen. I know he'd worry about you. But I have to ask. Will you be alright? You know, I'd rather neither of you go at all than put you at extra risk."

She rolled her eyes impatiently at the stupidity of men - even gorgeous ones. "I'm **pregnant** , Boss, not ill. I'll be fine. I've got something for the morning sickness - do you know **that** is the most inappropriately named condition by the way? Must have been a man named it that! No woman would be so..." Remus grinned wider as Ginny took on a sudden fiercely uncanny resemblance to her mother. "Morning, afternoon and bloody evening sodding sickness more like. Hmph! Anyway, I can deal with that. Transformation's safe - I **did** check. And I'm not **nearly** far enough along to make it in any way cumbersome. No backache, no heartburn, no dizziness. No. Problem."

Remus glanced down at Ginny's still firm abdomen. His fingers twitched as though he was fighting back an urge to stroke her, to communicate with the new life inside. He resisted, with effort. "Fine, as long as you're sure I'll take your word for it. But you **must** tell him, Ginny, and soon, because..."

"I know," she sighed again. "But if I tell him **now** he'll either be so overbearingly bloody protective that I won't be able to do my job properly, or..."

"Ginny..."

"...he'll try to guilt me into staying behind, and I'll have to hit him, or..."

" **Ginny**..."

"...he'll end up **making** me stay behind by not going himself. Then he'd sulk..."

"MOLLY!"

"...and then he'd blame me. Oh, not now. But he'd feel awful at not being there with you two and... **what** did you call me?"

Amused at her thunderous expression, and satisfied that he now had her attention, Remus nodded and continued.

"Right. Thank you. Now, what I was **going** to say was, you'd better tell him soon because if you don't, I can't guarantee that I or Sirius won't give in to a sudden bout of paternal overexuberence."

"You've. Told. **Sirius**?" Now she **did** look like Molly, and Remus backed off slightly, still chuckling, both hands raised in mock apology and surrender.

"There are certain things, sweet, which I find impossible to keep from him. Forgive me. And Ginny..."

"Yes." She wasn't really angry with him. You couldn't be angry with him when he turned on the charm like that.

"If it's a girl, I hope she doesn't have her grandmothers' temper." His hidden ~or her mothers~ please the gods~ went unsaid.

"Which one?"

"Both." He laughed, squeezed her upper arm and winked reassuringly, and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. She relaxed and threw her arms around him in relief. "Now, go on," he murmured. "Go back to him before we give him and Sirius cause for concern."

She looked up at him and giggled. "I know," she said. "The problems with jealous lovers, eh?"

They walked back over to where Harry was talking to Ron and Hermione. The green eyes widened slightly at the sight of his girlfriend with her arm around Remus' waist, his arm around her shoulder. "Should I be jealous, then?" He joked, looking amused as he glanced from one to the other. Remus and Ginny exchanged quick, knowing glances ~See? Jealous I **don't** think~. "It'd better be a damned good present. That's all I can say."

"The best, Harry. The best." Remus relinquished his hold on Ginny, who seemed curiously reluctant to do the same for a second. Remus greeted Ron and Hermione, then turned back to Sirius, who was talking to the twins.

He crossed to them, holding back for just a moment as Sirius patted Fred and George on the shoulder. Then, as the two moved away, he approached his lover, turning his head with a fleeting expression of sadness in his eyes to watch the departing twins.

He put his arms around Sirius' waist, lacing his fingers behind his lover's back, and smiled.

"Miss me?"

"Always, angel. That's why I needed two of them to try and take just half your place."

Remus and Sirius both looked towards Fred and George again.

"Which one is is to be, love?" Remus asked gently.

"Either. Both." Sirius shrugged, running both hands into Remus' hair, taking care not to disturb the clasped strands. Remus nodded approval. Sirius had told him of his night time visit as they had watched the sky lightening just a couple of hours previously.

"Both's best," Remus murmured. "Then they'll never know for sure..."

"Hey, love. What do you reckon to those two?" Remus looked up, recognising Sirius' diversionary tactic, and letting it go. His mate was indicating over into a corner with his chin, trying to be discreet and failing miserably. Remus followed his direction. Severus and Neville were standing in semi shadow, deep in conversation.

"What? Oh, you're joking!" He couldn't suppress the snigger.

"Why? I've seen more unlikely things."

"Name me one. Go on. Just one. See, you can't, can you? Anyway no. They work together, Siri. Just last minute instructions, obviously. The body language is all wrong."

Neville looked round at them as they were appraising him. He blushed and grinned nervously at them, and muttered something to Severus, who nodded. They moved out of the shadow towards the others, Neville casting nervous looks their way. Sirius elbowed Remus in the ribs. Remus dug him back with a growl.

"Pack it in!" He laughed. "Neville has changed almost beyond possibility, Sirius. But he's not gay. And even if he were..."

"Good morning." Severus' deep, quiet voice cut across him. "There will be no last minute delays, I trust?"

"No. No, Severus. We're just waiting for Albus to see us off at the door. He insisted on saying goodbye. Then we'll be off." Remus turned away from Sirius to speak to the Potions Master.

Severus nodded and seemed about to say more when Albus himself appeared.

"Speak of the devil..." muttered Sirius. Remus gave him a warning glance.

As Albus approached, he seemed to give Severus a slightly questioning look. He answered with the minutest of nods, then stood back seeming to melt once again into the shadows. Sirius wasn't certain if he'd even seen the exchange. Maybe he was just a little too on edge.

"Ah, thank you all for waiting." The headmaster gathered everbody around him with a beckoning gesture. "I know I've delayed you slightly and I apologise. Unfortunately, I had one or two matters to attend to myself. But I merely wanted to extend my good wishes and blessing to you all. And, if all goes well, we will meet again in a day or two. Know that you will be in my thoughts," and his gaze seemed to linger on Sirius and Remus for a moment, "and I wish you success."

They all murmured their thanks and goodbyes to Albus, then walked out into the morning and down through the grounds to the anti Apparating boundary, waving to Charlie Weasley on the way as he attended to something highly unpleasant-looking with what appeared to be far too many legs for Ron's comfort.

~~~~~~~

Percy hated summer mornings. At least, he did today. He'd have given anything for it to still be dark. However, summer or winter, this was still the safest time for him to do this without detection.

Including himself, there were only eight Death Eaters there - wait, no - make that seven, since one had disappeared a couple of days ago. He'd be found. This time they couldn't fall back upon the old excuse of blaming Imperio, no matter how much the Ministry wanted to brush it all under the table, helped by the bribes and kickbacks of grateful old families. Even Voldemort couldn't make a curse like that linger for two years after his death.

He walked quietly up the stairs, grateful for the wide, sweeping staircase that afforded him clear views, although he knew they'd all be sleeping since the werewolves were in no state to rebel, and they still thought their position uncompromised. Well, except for Pettigrew, who'd shut himself away in his room, only emerging rarely and furtively when the need arose. Percy didn't think that Pettigrew was sleeping at all these days, which was a shame really because he'd need all the rest he could get now to cope with the eternity of agonized wakefulness in hell. He really should try to take it while he could.

Did he know something? Percy wasn't sure, but he thought probably not. Unless of course he'd realised who Tamar was, but he didn't see how, since whoever had snatched her had been careful not to include a family name. That brought him up short for a moment. Whoever had snatched her **had** known who she was. Perhaps, given that she had not started menstruating - and the Ministry kept close watch on that sort of development - she had been taken for that reason. Unlike the others, maybe Tamar had been taken because of **who** she was rather that **what** she was.

But why? Why were Sirius and Remus so special that somebody would try to lure them here? Except for Pettigrew, none of the other Death Eaters had been at known them personally, to the best of his knowledge. And to plan something like this - well, it just wasn't Pettigrew's sort of thing.

He was glad he'd taken the risk of talking to Arthur again. He'd promised him that he was coming home this time, no matter what. Arthur had told him that Sirius and Remus were coming, although he said that he didn't know who would be accompanying them. Percy thought Arthur had been hiding something. Not telling him the entire truth - perhaps that meant he would see one of his family. Gods, he hoped so. Then he'd tell them just how much they **all** meant to him. And he could tell Sirius and Remus about Tamar. And Pettigrew.

He let himself silently into the werewolves' dormitory. It had once been two state bedrooms where the great, even if the not so good would rest their heads on the finest linens, partaking of breakfast from silver platters and the finest crystal goblets, surrounded by rich damask and lace, but their fading opulence now only bore witness to the aftereffects of a madman's deluded grasp at eternal power, and the light of day could no longer penetrate the shuttered and sealed windows, throwing the entire room into darkness.

He lit the end of his wand with a softly muttered "Lumos" and let its soft gleam guide his way to Tamar. He reckoned he could have found her in the pitch black, but he didn't want to run the risk, albeit remote, that he would disturb any of the others by inadvertantly blundering into the end of a bed.

He put one knee carefully onto Tamar's bed, making sure that none of the girl's wasting body was in the way, and he leaned over slightly to look again into her face. He'd been here whenever he could in the last couple of days, not knowing whether he did any good, but fully aware that he just **might** be, and anyway, it couldn't harm her any more than she already had been. The rasping, tortured breathing seemed to grasp and twist at his heart, even though it was evidence that life still flowed through the young veins.

Gently, he reached out a hand and stroked her hair, murmuring softly to her. He didn't know if he believed half of what he said, but said it anyway, trying to force his gentle tones into her brain. He didn't expect her to respond, but she'd had so little kindness and concern and love extended to her since she'd been taken. He wanted to try. To soothe her, somehow. He also wanted to try and make her aware that, sometimes, it could be good to be touched. It didn't have to be painful, uncaring, torturous. Touch did not mean rape. He wanted to remind her that she'd been protected, cherished and loved once, that she still was, so very much, and that she always would be. That there were good people out there, and that they were coming for her.

"Hello, pretty one," he muttered. "You've been so very brave, you know that? So incredibly brave. And, do you know what, Tamar? You'll be going home soon, sweetheart. Then you'll be safe and warm. You will. You'll have so many people who'll come and see you. You can sit in the sun and let it warm your pretty face. And you'll get better. I know it will take a while, honey, but you **will** get better. And do you know how I know? Because you're going home. To Sirius. And Remus. They're coming for you, little one. They know you're here and they're coming to take you home with them. Because they love you."

Percy couldn't be sure then. He thought it was probably wishful thinking of the most desperate kind. But he thought, when he said the names of Tamar's beloved brothers, just for a split second, there seemed to be a dim spark in the half-dead eyes, and the faintest flicker of the eyelids.

"I have to go now, pretty one," Percy whispered as he stood up and gave her hair one last caress. "But I'll come again, soon. And then **they'll** be here." He tested his theory. Watching her like a tender hawk, he said. "You know who I mean, sweetheart. Remus and..."

Yes! It was there. Definitely. And any doubt in his mind was completely wiped away as a tear formed in one eye and slipped out, pooling against the side of her nose because of the way she was lying. And he could have danced and sang and shouted for joy when he heard her whisper.

"...Siri." It was barely audible, and it took a herculean effort for her to even get that out, but to Percy it was as beautiful and ringing as an aria.

He felt his own eyes tear over as he bent to place a soft kiss on her brow.

"Yes. Remus and Siri."

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance after all.

~~~~~~~

They Apparated to a spot about two miles from the manor house. They were unsure of all the wards and proximity detection alarms without having spoken to their contact, so decided that caution was the better part of valour. Anyway, it would never do to Apparate into woodland they were unfamiliar with. There was a high risk that at least one of them would splinch right into a tree. After a brief look round, Remus took inevitable charge.

"Right, let's find somewhere to set up camp. I'm hoping that we won't be sleeping here tonight, but it all depends on whether our contact turns up on time. We can only wait until then. Once we're sorted, Ron and Hermione if you can go and see what you can find. Ginny, see if you can spot any old ditches or tunnels that may run under the house. Siri, you go with her. Give the signal."

"What then, Boss?" Sirius teased his mate. Remus smiled and stroked his cheek.

"Then? Why, **then** you come back to me of course. Or I'll have to come looking for you." He gave Sirius a look that made the darker wizard think that being stalked by his lover was the only thing worth living for, and Sirius felt an all too familiar delicious tingling and stirring in his groin.

Later. Oh, yes. Definitely later. He settled for the type of kiss which let Remus know **exactly** what he would be in store for. Remus returned it with a fervour that told Sirius his mate would expect nothing less.

It didn't take long for them to find a suitable site, and they ditched packs and bags, for which the twins were relieved since they didn't want to take the risk of magicking Muggle weaponry, not quite sure of what that could do to delicate circuitry. So they'd carried full sized, full weight bags, and had let everybody know about it, loudly and often.

The animagi disappeared to their appointed tasks, with the exception of Harry, who watched after the disappearing vixen for a while until she fanished completely from view. He went over to sit with Remus who, having made a fire the Muggle way, was now sitting staring into its depths.

"Penny for them?" Remus blinked and looked up into Harry's gently smiling face, his green eyes for a moment bringing a vivid picture to the older man's mind of the first, and except for Tamar, only woman he had ever called 'sister'. He returned the smile. ~I miss you, little tiger lily~.

"What? Oh, Harry. They're probably not worth that much. I was just vegging out for a while. Sit with me?" Harry sat.

"Missing Sirius already?" Harry's slightly teasing tone made Remus chuckle quietly. He shrugged.

"Ah, you got me. It's a bitch, isn't it?" The golden eyes gleamed in self mocking amusement.

"No. No, I don't think so." Harry's voice softened. "Remus, I've been wanting to talk to you since Sunday. But I don't really know what to say."

"I scared you, didn't I?" Remus' tone matched Harry's and he lifted a hand to gently stroke his unruly hair. ~I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Oh, but Jay - did you **see** him?~

"Yes, you did," Harry admitted. "But it was more than that, Remus. It was...oh, I don't know. It was **real**. You never let me see it before, and...I know you didn't mean for it to happen that way. But...I'm glad in a way that it did. And I love you Remus. You and Sirius. I just wanted you to know that you're the...bravest, most honourable and **decent** people I've ever met. And I'm so glad that my mum and dad knew you too."

Remus draped his arms loosely over his knees and let his head hang for a moment. When he raised it to look at Harry, his eyes were brimming. He just gazed at Harry for a moment in silence. Then he ruffled his hair again.

"Thank you. That is one of the kindest things anybody has ever said to me. But you know, Harry, there are many forms of bravery. You and Siri see a form in me. I don't. There's nothing brave about inevitibility. I **have** to do that, every four weeks. I can't change that. **Sirius** on the other hand. He **chooses** to remain with me, in spite of it. He never wavers. He's the last thing I see before the moonrise hits me, and the first thing I see when I return. He survived **Azkaban** , Harry. Yes, he was and still is affected by it. But he **survived** to come back to me. To you.

You, and your friends choose to fight in a battle which started before you were even born. You all know what is right and you're prepared to go out there and get it. That's bravery, of the noblest kind. After what you've been through Harry, nobody would blame you for just jacking it all in. But you don't. You carry on.

Your mum and dad were two of the bravest people I've ever known. They laid down their lives for you, willingly. Oh, and Harry, you have proved yourself so worthy of their sacrifice."

Harry stood up, taking advantage of the lull in Remus' conversation.

"I need to have a word with Neville about who does what when we get in there." He nodded in the general direction of their goal. "But you're wrong, Remus. Very wrong. There is a bravery in inevitibility. In enduring what you do without going under. You're always there for us...for **me** Remus, just like Sirius is for you. You never complain. Hells, I had no idea what you went through and yes, part of me is damned **furious** that you never told me. But I **do** know why. And that's part of the reason that I love you so much. You'll never stop protecting me, will you? And I'm grateful and so glad because I never want you to stop. And I know that mum and dad would feel the same. I just know it." He turned to walk away before his tears got the better of him, leaving Remus staring after him.

"Thank you, Harry." He murmured again, his voice shaky and husky. "I love you too." He turned his attention back to the fire for a while, organising his thoughts. Then he rose and went to look for Sirius.

~~~~~~~

Padfoot had delivered the message, as instructed. And he'd waited until he'd received the answering signal. Good. Now all they had to do was wait until their contact arrived. He was still a bit unsure about trusting a renegade Death Eater, but he had to admit that Albus was rarely wrong in these matters, and he had reassured Sirius that he had **utmost** faith in this instance.

He arrived back at the camp and looked around for his lover.

"Where...?" He didn't have to complete the question.

"Thattaway." Fred looked up with a smirk from several pieces of hardware scattered around him, and pointed off down the path which was just visible from their position, although nobody on a stroll through would ever notice them.

Sirius glanced around the rest of the assembled company. They were all there except for Remus, and they all seemed to be giving him knowing looks. He blushed slightly, then laughed.

"All right you shower of gobshites. Have you never heard of stress relief?"

"Fuck, you two must be **really** stressed, then." Sirius growled at George, still laughing.

"Like you wouldn't believe," he muttered, and winked. "Look, I'll go find him. Somebody needs to get back to the manor to wait for our contact. I don't know how long they'll be. I presume they can't just walk in and out on a whim."

"We'll go," volunteered the twins in unison, gathering bits of metal and wire together, seemingly into separate piles which only they understood.

"Okay, thanks. Make sure you're satisfied that it **is** the right one. Any doubt, **any** at all..." He made a slashing motion across his throat.

"No problemo, Sirius." He nodded and turned to go, briefly wondering how Remus hadn't already found him. It was usually sickeningly easy to the point of irritation.

"Give him one for us!" Sirius roared with laughter at the innocent look which never sat well on either twin.

Sirius was still chuckling to himself when he strode round the corner which led towards their camp. "Oh, fuck. Wait till I tell Remus. He'll **love** it." He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes then, as he looked ahead, the smile died, his laughter choked painfully in his tightening throat and all ideas of telling Remus anything, ever again in this life seemed obsolete.

He was lying at the bottom of an oak tree. No, not quite lying, he was almost sitting, his head up, honey-silver hair swept away from his pale face. Sirius could see his eyes, which was odd because Remus never slept with his eyes open, but even if he had, Sirius was sure that they would **never** appear so...dull...empty, as though the fire within had been suddenly, irrevocably extinguished. Still, for a moment, that brief flicker of hope and disbelief of what his own eyes were telling him, because after all his eyes had lied at the evidence of Remus' body once before, kept Sirius upright until his gaze moved unwillingly but inescapably downwards and all hope became nothing but flights of desperate fantasy.

Remus never wore red, either. Or at least, not that shade. It had never suited him. But now it covered him in a carmine coat from his throat downwards. It looked almost like Remus was wearing a high necked sweater, but that was a no-no too. He always said that they were too constricting. Sirius thought now he could see what Remus meant. It was wrong. His lover's smooth, warm alabaster throat should never be covered up that much. Such a beautiful throat. With such a high neckline, Sirius couldn't see the pulsebeat there that he always found so erotic.

And Remus never, ever wore silver. But he was wearing it now, it seemed to be pinned to his chest, near his heart, like an exclamation mark made by the demented artist who'd painted on his throat. Or a full stop. But full stops were never in the shape of dagger hilts. Were they?

"Remmy...?" Sirius' voice trembled uncontrollably, and he reverted unconsciously to the nickname he'd given Remus as an eleven year old child. He tried to reach out a hand, but couldn't. He tried to go towards Remus, but his feet remained frozen to the spot. "Remmy? What's wrong? Remmy, I've got to tell you...Ah, wake up Remmy, **please**... Please...?" He let out a sob. "It's Fred, you won't believe what he's...."

Sirius said no more. His voice trailed off from childlike plea into absolutely nothing as the truth hit home. As he felt his heart shatter into a million shards, and each of those into a million splinters which fought to escape his juddering body, his last conscious thought as he began to double up in pain was ~So, this is how the World ends~.

Then he felt the pain hit his brain. He heard a wild screaming coming from somewhere. A tickle along the ridge above his mouth ~Filtrum, Siri. It's called your filtrum~ told him that his nose was bleeding.

Then the lights went out, and Sirius knew no more.


	8. 07

(Twoish years ago) **I know I'm a bit vague with the timeline throughout, but you get the general idea!**

Tamar ran down to the orchard, hair flying and golden eyes flashing in the sun, laughing in her flight and waving off the older woman's entreaties to return and dress in something warmer. Arabella always worried about her.

"Oh, Aunt Bella. I'm not cold. I'll never be cold again. I'm in love!"

The echo of her delighted cry spun around her ~In love, in love, in love~, and she spun with it, hugging her skinny arms around her chest and throwing her head back with joy.

Arabella watched Tamar with an indulgent smile. In love, eh? Ah, well, she was not so old that she couldn't remember the rush of first love. Puppy love. Well, how appropriate. Her smile now widened to one of satisfaction at her own joke and she turned, chuckling, to go back into the house.

"Alright, Tammy dear. Let your love keep you warm then. And I suppose you'll not be wanting to come back and greet our visitors when they arrive?"

Tamar stopped her spinning, but her brain carried on longer than her body and she almost tripped over her long, coltish legs in her excitement. "They're coming? Today? But, why didn't you tell me?"

"I believe I **did** mention it, dear. However, with all this falling in love business, I suppose it clean escaped your mind. Or perhaps it didn't occur to you that your brothers would **never** miss your birthday, or the full moon, unless they couldn't help it," Arabella teased her gently.

Tamar blew her a kiss and laughed again. "Of course you told me, Aunt Bella. I'm sorry. Have I got time to get flowers for Remus? I've missed him while he's been ill." Her eyes clouded over with worry for a brief instant.

Arabella nodded. "But don't be too long."

"I won't and, Aunt Bella..."

"Yes, Tamar?" The young girl went suddenly shy and uncertain, her thirteen year old awkwardness sweetly apparent.

"Could I invite Thomas to tea as well?"

"Thomas, is it?" Arabella knew young Thomas Redmond well, and approved. She was happy at the fledgling bond which seemed to be developing between Tamar and the fourteen year old boy. He'd known about Tamar's lycanthropy from the start, and it had never bothered him. He had always accepted it as an unchangeable part of his friend, just as brown eyes were a part of him. Arabella trusted him, and her trust was not easily won. "I think Remus and Sirius would be most put out if they were not introduced. Of course you may invite him."

Tamar ran back up to Arabella and threw her arms around her in a fierce hug. "Thank you. Is Harry coming too? I want him to meet Thomas as well. Do you think they'll like him? What if they don't?"

"Well, sweet. The bond forms where it will, and it does not heed convention nor the likes and dislikes of others. You only have to look at Remus and Sirius to see that. But, for what it's worth, and bearing in mind that **no** boy will be good enough for you in their eyes then, yes, they will like him. Harry too, Tammy." She kissed the love-struck adolescent on her upturned freckled nose. "Now, flowers?" Tamar returned the kiss and ran.

She gathered flowers haphazardly, not noticing which types she picked, but trying to find gold and blue. She took no heed of her route since she could always find her way home, no matter where she was. The woods beyond the orchard were her home, almost as much as Arabella's house. And soon, she would have a new home with her brothers. She felt a slight sadness at leaving Aunt Bella, but they would visit often and in fact it had been Bella's idea. She had suggested that now Remus and Sirius were no longer needed in the war, it was time for her to move in with them.

Thought of the war made the young girl's eyes cloud a bit. She didn't know much about it. They still thought she was too young to know details. But she knew that Remus had been ill. That something bad had happened to him, and it was to do with the fighting and what she had overheard Sirius refer to as the "thrice-damned fucking Ministry wankers". She'd heard a lot more that night too including even more colourful epithets from her dark haired, protective brother, as she'd hidden at the top of the stairs listening in.

Tamar had been jealous of Remus' mate when she'd first met him. That first day when her adored brother had solemnly introduced the handsome man with the laughing blue eyes to her, looking at him with an expression which the then ten year old didn't quite understand, but which had made the hairs which would have formed her hackles rise protectively at her neck. She'd actually growled - just a bit - whenever they'd touch or smile at each other in a special, secret way, or when they'd kiss or stroke each other's hair when they thought she wasn't watching.

But then, one day, she'd seen Remus' eyes as he watched Sirius come down to breakfast. His so so completely happy golden eyes, misty with love and flashing with something unknown to her, but good nonetheless. She knew that he'd always had happy eyes whenever he looked at her, that he loved her. But he'd always been happy-sad before, and while she'd wished that she had been able to get rid of all the sadness, from that moment on she loved Sirius for doing it instead.

So that meant that she now had **two** companions for full moon nights. She adored Padfoot with a ferocity second only to that which she felt for Remus. She loved his soft, soft fur, the eyes that always remained somehow 'Sirius', the rough and tumble play that she had insisted on and in which he happily indulged, and the big sloppy kisses that made her laugh. She'd loved Padfoot since the first time she'd met him, just as solemnly as she'd met his later beloved human counterpart. How could she resist, when he'd sat there so seriously before her, head to one side, and offered his paw with such finesse before winking broadly at her!

She had a natural ally in Sirius. He thought she was being too sheltered, and felt that they should give her more of an insight into what was actually going on in the world.

"She's a bloody tough kid, Remus. She can handle it. She needs to know a little of where we go, what we do when we're not with her."

"I know, love. But let her be a child for just a bit longer."

"Remus. I met you when you were just a bit older than her..."

"Nearly two years."

"So what? You were still a kid. Hells we **both** were. But we knew what was going on. Fuck, Remus. You had the reasoning power of a damn thirty year old when you were twelve."

"Maybe. But you know what? You know what I wanted? I wanted to **be** a twelve year old. I didn't want to know what was happening. What people did to each other. I didn't want it for me, and I don't want it for Tamar. Not until she's older."

"But, love..."

" **No** , Sirius. No. Not yet."

That was the only time Tamar had ever heard them come anywhere close to arguing. And it upset her enough that she'd decided she was content to wait, not to push for information which, she agreed with Sirius, she was more than ready for. But she loved Sirius all the more for trying.

She hadn't seen them for a few weeks. In fact, they'd missed the last moon and she could count the number of missed moons on the fingers of one hand and still have enough left over to make more than one. Remus had owled her and explained that he wasn't very well, and he would see her as soon as he could. That he was sorry he couldn't be with her, but he would lend her Padfoot, if she promised to treat him firmly and not spoil him too much.

Sirius had also owled her. After she'd read his words, which gave her far more credit for insight and intelligence than she received from anybody else, she'd owled back. She hadn't mentioned Sirius' letter to Remus, but said that she felt that Moony needed Padfoot more than she did, that she would be fine, and she would see them soon. Sirius had sent her a large stuffed black dog toy, bearing a card with a huge X on it. She'd known what he meant.

She paused for a moment in her musing and flower picking and looked up at the sky to try and gauge the time. She reckoned she'd have a safe half hour to try and find some more flowers for Remus. Then she could go and tell Thomas about tea, and have time to get back to Aunt Bella's house to change. Bella liked her to wear a dress (bleugggh!), but she didn't really mind changing because she knew that, withing half an hour of their arrival, she would be back in jeans and t-shirt, running like a hellion through the orchard, leading Padfoot a merry dance, with Harry assisting her, and Remus helping Padfoot.

She grinned in anticipation and started humming to herself, a song which Remus had taught her. A baby song really, but it was the first one she remembered him singing. She noticed the dappled sunlight playing on her bare arms and she skipped and twisted this way and that, making a game for her own amusement; now in the shadow, now in the light, now stripes, now spots, now full sun, now none.

It was only when she finally turned back to go home that she saw the men. There were three of them, hooded and masked. How long they had been watching her, following her, she had no idea. But she did know that she didn't like it.

One of the men stepped forward, but didn't remove the mask. He spoke.

"Tamar Lupin?"

The child in her cringed in terror. This was wrong. Everything inside screamed at her to run. His voice was **so** cold, just the words of her name sounding like a threat. The maturing wolf bitch in her drew back her lips to bare her teeth, and she snarled at the not quite concealed menace. But it was too late.

"Stupify."

The three hooded men approached the unconscious girl. One - not the one that had spoken her name, knelt down and tore roughly at the neck of her shirt, exposing her shoulder. Her scar was plainly visible and unmistakable. He grunted in satisfaction and stood, signalling to one of the other, larger figures.

The designated man picked her up and hefted her casually over his shoulder. Then, after a brief look round, they Disapparated, leaving nothing behind but a sense of stillness, and a trampled posy of blue and gold woodland flowers.

~~~~~~~

(Present Day)

Sirius was moving.

No, he wasn't moving. He was being moved. Carried. He was being carried like a child in a pair of oh, so strong arms, cradled into a warm, comforting shoulder with his aching forehead brushing against a jawline. This was strange. It should feel wrong - horrendously, impossibly wrong. Yet it felt...right. So safe and reassuring.

And yet, he didn't **want** to be moved. Didn't want to be carried, because being carried meant that he was being taken away. He wanted to go back. He **needed** to go back. He **had** to go back - there.

With him.

With Remus.

He raised an arm and pushed, weakly and ineffectively, against the chest of the man ~obviously a man~ who was carrying him. He wanted to explain. Didn't they know that, whatever journey they were taking him on, it was the wrong one? There was only one journey left for him to make now. And he had to take the first step alone. Then his Remus would be there, waiting for him just as he'd said he would be, ready to take his hand so they could continue together.

He'd flash that beautiful, half-teasing, half-adoring smile at him. "You took your time," he'd say. Just like he had at their handfasting when Sirius had been ten minutes late. And he'd reply with a wink and his forgive-any-sin laugh, "Bride's prerogative, angel," just like he had then. Then they'd both laugh and continue their journey. Just the two of them. Forever. Just like they'd promised.

He tried to explain this. Tried to tell the man who was carrying him that he **had** go go back. All that came out of his treacherous mouth though was a croaky, dry moan of protest.

"Nnnnnnooooooo."

The arms gripped him tighter. The jawline turned towards him and a mouth brushed a kiss across his brow. A soft, slightly trembling voice murmured "Shh, Siri..." and from beneath his fingertips, which were still pressed to the chest which was supporting him, a growl which was more like the softest of purrs permeated into every cell of his body. It was almost prehensile, wrapping itself around him and curling within him, body and soul, caressing his tortured mind with its soothing tenderness. Easing his trembling with - NO!

Sirius gulped in a sob. Oh, no. This was just too cruel. Who would do this to him? Or was he dead? Had the sight of his slaughtered mate been just all too much, prompting the Fates to take pity and cut his lifeline out of uncharacteristic compassion? He curled his fingers slightly against the chest.

"Rem...?" ~Oh gods, let it be him. Let me be dead. Don't let me be mad. Just let it be him~.

"Yes, my love. I've got you." Another kiss brushed his brow. He thought about opening his eyes, but found that he really didn't want to. He'd let Remus carry him anywhere. He didn't worry about the destination. He was safe now. He could look at Paradise later. Right now he was content to be cradled, carried and caressed by the only heaven he ever wanted or needed.

Then he felt himself being gently lowered to the ground, and the warm body moved away from him. He whimpered, momentarily bereft at the loss.

"No. No, don't leave me. Not again."

A hand was placed on his brow. "Shh, my darling. It's alright. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Someone sat down ~Remus?~ and his upper body was raised for a moment. Then his head was being cradled again into that welcoming shoulder, an arm around his back. A gentle hand was stroking his hair, supporting his head. There were more kisses on his brow and up into his hairline. That wonderful, beautiful, honeyed voice murmured, "Sleep now, my beautiful one."

Sirius slept.

When he awoke it was to voices. Familiar voices, but he struggled to identify them. His hand moved slowly upwards and it was instantly held by another, thumb lightly circling his palm, then brought to a smooth mouth and kissed, gently and reverently, by a tender pair of lips, which opened slightly around his skin so their owner could speak.

"Hello, my sweetheart."

Slowly, he raised his head and finally, opened his eyes.

And he felt the sun flooding back into his world, almost blinding him with its light, and bathing him in its warmth.

He raised his hand from Remus' lips and ran his fingers into the soft hair, flexing them around the strands slightly as if to confirm the reality of its texture against his skin. Remus smiled gently at him and reached behind to remove his hair clasp, shaking more of the honey-silver tresses free for Sirius to feel.

Sirius frowned, confused. "Are we dead?" he whispered.

In response, Remus leaned towards him and kissed him, deeply and tenderly. Even as he felt his lover's tongue part his lips and meet his own, Sirius felt his slender hand comb through his hair, removing his own hair clasp which fell unheeded to the ground. Sirius' hand tightened at the back of Remus' head and pulled him closer in, eyes closing in confused relief, groaning into his obviously very much alive mate's warm, moist mouth. They parted eventually with a last, chaste kiss to the lips.

"Well?" Remus asked softly, still stroking through the ebony locks. "What's the verdict?"

"I thought...I...Remus, I **saw**..." Sirius' eyes flashed pain and his hand went tentatively to Remus' throat. Remus pulled away slightly and tilted his chin back so Sirius could have a full, uninterrupted view of the unmarked expanse of flesh. Sirius almost wept when he saw the pulse beating strongly in the veins, and he ran his finger lightly over the top of it. "But...?" He shook his head slightly and slowly. Remus drew him in closer towards him, both arms now encircling him, and rested his chin on Sirius' head.

"I heard you scream. Oh, shit, Siri it was...and when I saw you, watched you fall before I could get to you..." Remus closed his eyes and screwed them tight. "I saw what...what **you** saw."

"But...it was **you** , love. And I couldn't go to you. I couldn't...hold you. It was like... **there**. Like I was back there again...when I last saw you...that day. The Aurors...they had silver. They wanted to kill you and...I couldn't **stop** them." Remus could hear the panicked desperation beginning to rise as the low voice gained volume, and Sirius clutched at his mate, shuddering in induced remembrance.

"You **did** , Siri. You did stop them my love. You kept me safe, and you held me, and you **did** stop them. They didn't kill me. That wasn't me, sweetheart. It wasn't real. It was Azkaban my darling. Remember? It was the Dementors. You know that. They made you think that. I'm not dead. Oh, my sweet, beautiful love. I'm here. I'm here." Remus was holding Sirius tight to his chest and rocking him in his arms as he waited for his distraught lover to calm down. "It's nightmares, love. That's all. Just nightmares. It's what you fear most. Shhh, now. It's okay. It's over. It's gone. It was just a boggart, my love. That's all."

"Ohhhhhhhh, sweet fuck." Sirius let the words out in a long, juddering sigh. He'd never longed for the sight of Albus Dumbledore more in his entire life. Those were the days when all he had to fear was incurring the wrath of the headmaster. A headmaster who had hardly ever even raised his voice to Sirius. He wished he was still that...innocent. A damn fucking boggart?

"Come on now," Remus' gentle voice and arms were urging him to sit up a little. "Let's get some food and drink into you."

"I'm not hungry. I couldn't eat a thing."

"Water, then?" Sirius nodded and a cup was placed in his hands from in front of him. He looked up, murmuring his thanks.

Harry was standing in front of him, eyes wide, face pale. "We seem to make a habit of scaring the holy shit out of you, don't we, H?" He smiled wryly at his godson. "I'm sorry."

Harry crouched down. "Well, I guess that answers a question, doesn't it Sirius?" he said, smiling waveringly at his godfather. "Are you feeling okay?"

Sirius answered honestly. "Not yet, to be truthful. But I will be." He sipped at the water, reality seeping back into him with every mouthful. He risked a glance around. Remus had carried him back to the camp. Although nobody else approached him, they were all watching him with concern and he was grateful, both for their consideration in not crowding him just yet, and for the nods and smiles which were extended to him. The twins were missing. He frowned and then remembered asking them to wait for their contact to show. "Fred and George?" he asked.

"Not back yet. They left just after I brought you back. You were out about an hour and a half. I'm not unduly worried. Those two can take care of themselves." Sirius nodded at Remus' information, delivered as he was still running his fingers reassuringly through the ebony locks. "We all should get some sleep this afternoon. It may be a long night, and I need everybody alert." Sirius opened his mouth to protest that he'd already had enough sleep. "You too, Sirius." He swallowed his protest. "Anyway, how will **I** be able to sleep without you next to me?"

Sirius nodded and twisted his head so he could grin wryly up into his mate's loving, concerned gaze. ~Oh, Remus. You are so **fucking** beautiful~ "So that's all I am to you now, is it? A fucking teddy bear?"

Remus raised a brow and smirked. ~So damned sexy when you do that, my angel~. "Could be worse, Siri. You could so easily be a non-fucking teddy bear. Count your blessings, my love."

"I do, Remus. Every damned day." ~You're alive.~

~~~~~~~

Percy made his way out through the front door and down the short flight of stone steps which led over a gravelled area to the large, wide driveway, and continued down towards the gatehouse. He hated leaving without Tamar, but it wouldn't be for long, and he couldn't take the chance of trying to get her out as well until later. He felt like a complete shit for leaving **any** of the werewolves, but there was a real risk that he might be seen. Hells, it was probably a certainty, but by this stage he was prepared to take the risk and wing it if necessary. He was hooded and masked so that anybody taking a casual glance through one of the windows would have to waste some time finding out who it was, leaving at this time of the day. He'd timed it until the day watch was on patrol round the back of the building, then gone.

He got through the gate without incident, and his luck held as he approached and entered the cover of the trees. Now, where in all hells would he be met. He glanced to left and right, shrugged and made to the right. It was as good a direction as any. He hadn't gone far before he realised he was being tailed by more than one person. They were good, very good. Just not as adept as he'd become. He stopped his steps and held both hands up in the air. Then he heard **the** voice. He'd expected to be met either by Sirius or Padfoot. But life was full of little surprises.

"That's right, matey. Keep your hands there and turn around, nice and slowly."

Fred. Fucking. Weasley. **Fuck**. Then that meant...

"And take the mask off as you turn. That's all your hands reach for. Nothing else. Okay?"

George. Fucking. Weasley. **Double Fuck**. As he turned, removing his mask, as slowly and smoothly as he could, he found that he couldn't stop the stupid grin from spreading over his face. And his grin widened even more when he saw the expressions that greeted him.

The twins exchanged staggered glances. Then looked back at Percy. Then back at each other. Then back at him again.

"Perce...?"

"Fucking hell, Perce. Does mum know?"

He laughed. For the first time in three years, Percy Weasley laughed. "Hello, boys. Surprised to see me?"

"Shit! Fucking shit!" He thought he detected a hint of pride, admiration and envy in the voices. Then he was pounced on by a two headed ball of energy and delight.

Although Molly and Arthur Weasley knew where their third child had been these past three years, Percy's siblings had simply been told that he was working for the Order. None of them had had any idea of the details. None of them asked, since that was how the Order operated. But they had all worried about him, and the twins were overjoyed to see him alive, in one piece and apparently in good health.

Percy was bowled clean off his feet by the attacking twins, and he dragged them down with him, suffering the loving, relieved ambush with good grace. After all, he'd dealt with far worse at the hands of these two. Eventually, he managed to get them both into a head lock and hold them. Hah, not **all** of his training had been for nothing then! He knocked their two heads together - **almost** gently, and laughed again as he released them and they all three sat together, the twins rubbing their foreheads in bemusement

"By all that's holy, Perce. Where in hell did you learn **that**?"

He laughed again. Oh, but it felt so damn **good** to laugh. And play. He was only twenty four after all. He **should** laugh. And he **should** still play. And he **should** still love. And he realised anew just how much he loved his sister and brothers, all of them, even these two who, for probably the first time, were realising that Percy was, indeed, a true Weasley. They **forced** the fun out of him, although that wasn't as difficult as once it might have been. Oh, gods, but he hadn't laughed like this since before Penny died.

He sobered again as the twins hauled him to his feet, dusting down his long black robes. Correction, Percy. He hadn't laughed **at** **all** since Penny died. And he needed to.

He looked at Fred and George's panting red faces, grinning at him like crocodiles, and he flung an arm round each one before they could attack again, pulling them close into them and hugging them fiercely.

"Damn, but it's good to see you both. You have no idea just how **dull** Death Eaters are compared to you two gits."

"Going soft on us, Perce?" George laughed as he pulled out of the embrace, slapping his older brother on the back.

"I wouldn't count on it," retorted Fred, holding Percy's head in his hands and tilting it back, twisting it from side to side as though searching for something. "Although...maybe, George." He looked again. "No," he finally stated in feigned disappointment. "You were right after all. Not a single tint of red in them there baby blues." He pulled his hands away with a snort of disgust, but Percy noticed the joyful twinkle in the five-minutes older twin, and he grinned.

"Cheeky little buggers." He cuffed first one then the other around the head. "Come on, I presume you're with the rescue party - gods help them, no wonder they sent you here to wait. Lead the way and you can fill me in on family gossip on the way. I've spoken to dad a couple of times, but it's all business. I **crave** trivia!"

They turned and began to stroll off, the twins' excited voices rising in the afternoon air as they joyfully complied with Percy's request.

"Ron's married." This said in unison.

"What?" Percy was incredulous.

"We know."

"Who?"

"Duh! Hermione, of course. They're both here."

"Bloody hell!"

"Oh, come on Perce. It was always on the cards."

"Oh, yeah. It's not that."

"Then what?"

"I always had hopes for Hermione. Y'know. Credited her with more sense and all that. I mean...Ron's a **Weasley**. He...he's **your** brother!"

The three laughed again and Percy endured another good-natured pummelling before they resumed their journey.

"When?"

"Two weeks ago Saturday."

"Still on honeymoon then." The twins nodded. "Bit grim for them."

"Oh, I dunno. To hear mum talk, her's and dad's was worse. More fighting, anyhow."

"Yeah - Spitfire Moll." A pause. "D'you do any good tricks on them?"

"You know it!" from Fred, and

"Some we devised specially for the occasion." from George, with pride.

"Fill me in. C'mon - spill."

So they did, and Percy laughed until he couldn't breathe. And he felt **good**. He felt **clean**. He felt like he hadn't just spent three years in hell. He closed his eyes with a sigh, breathing deeply and letting his brothers' voices wash over him like a waterfall of light.

By the time they arrived back at the camp, all was silent. It had taken Percy a while to get out of the manor house after hearing and responding to Padfoot's signal, so it was mid afternoon by now.

As per Remus' instructions, everybody except Harry, who was keeping watch, was getting some sleep before a long night. He was lying on his back, Sirius cradled into his arms. Sirius murmured, frowned and twitched slightly in his sleep and, without waking, Remus shifted towards his mate with a soft growl and wrapped his arms more tightly round him, pulling the darker man closer. Sirius settled.

"How is he?" whispered Fred to Harry, indicating the pair. Harry looked over at them with a slightly sad smile. Then looked back up from his position on the ground.

"He'll be okay. I've seen him like this before. Azkaban." Fred nodded and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Do you want one of us to spell you for a bit?"

"Nah, s'okay. I've only just taken over from Hermione. Go reacquaint." He nodded up at Percy, trying not to let his shock show too much. Percy grinned down at him.

"Harry. How's it going?"

"Fine." George whispered something in Percy's ear. He turned to Harry with raised eyebrows.

"So, she finally convinced you, eh?" They all turned to look at the sleeping Ginny. Percy's heart wrenched a little at how much she'd changed from the girl he'd known.

"Wore him down, more likely," snorted George. "Let's wake her and Ron. They won't believe the state of you, big bro'."

"No," said Percy, although he was aching to hear the voices of his two youngest siblings. "No, let them sleep. In fact it's a damn good idea. Come on you two. Let's find a speck and get some shuteye. Leave the talk till later."

With a last nod to Harry, the three found a suitable spot and settled to sleep.

~~~~~~~

When Remus awoke he felt a momentary concern that he was alone, without the warm weight of Sirius next to him. He was close by though. Remus could hear his low, steady breathing just to his right. Turning his head slightly towards the comforting familiarity of the sound, he inhaled deeply through his nose and partly open lips, then ran the tip of his tongue over the roof of his mouth to savour that unmistakable scent both olfactorily and orally.

Slowly and simultaneously he smiled, rolled over and opened his eyes, stretching out a sleep-heavy arm to stroke Sirius' hand which was resting in his cross-legged lap. He watched Sirius take his hand, crossed palm to palm over his own, and lift it to his mouth where he tenderly proceeded to kiss along the knuckles.

The blue eyes were shut, and Remus could make out a single tear, glistening like a diamond, track slowly down from the long, soft, ebony lashes, across a smooth, tanned yet pale cheek and down again towards a stongly chiselled jawbone.

Sirius was so achingly beautiful, heartbreakingly raw, for all of his brash blustering and public threats of retribution. Oh, the loud Sirius was real. The outrage, storming, joking, the colourful, predominantly Angle-Saxon vocabulary, the vital, all-consuming energy - it was all genuine. His **private** Sirius was all too real as well; his tenderness, his passion. Oh yes. But so was this real - perhaps even more so because of its rarity.

Only Remus had ever seen this hidden side to his mate, and he could name and number every occasion on which he'd seen it. The first time had been many years ago, before they had acted on their unspoken intent to each other. He had awoken as now, but to the daylight streaming too harshly through the windows of the hospital wing. He'd been in a bed, in the most excrutiating pain he could remember, both of limb and mind. The pain of physical injury and betrayal.

He'd wanted to ask Sirius why? **Why** had he tried to send Snape to him? **Why** had he compromised Remus' position so utterly? **Why** would he try to destroy Remus - to destroy **himself** before they'd even...? But the look on Sirius' face - the one Remus was seeing again now - had stopped the rage and hurt confusion dead in their tracks, letting only love through.

On that occasion he'd only been able to muster a weak but reassuring smile for Sirius, hoping his unsaid words would somehow communicate themselves to him. His physical injuries had been simply too great, his exhaustion too overwhelming, to even attempt to comfort him and allay his terror in any other way on that occasion.

But not now. Not when Sirius was still **hurting** , still terrified, still **needing** his reassurance.

His hand still at Sirius' lips, he rolled over further to face him fully before pulling himself effortlessly up into a sitting position, legs crossed in exact imitation of Sirius himself. Then he stretched out his other hand and caressed his mate's cheek, collecting the teardrop onto his fingertip and touching it to his own tongue. He then threaded his hand into Sirius' hair at the temple, watching as he never tired of doing, as the strands curled and flowed through his fingers.

Sirius pressed the side of his head into Remus' hand and opened his eyes slowly, instantly meeting Remus' gaze and holding it steadily with his own as his lips still moved gently over the knuckles. The blue and golden amber held as securely as an extra two pairs of hands, then Remus nodded slightly and rose gracefully to his feet in one fluid movement. Not even pausing to put on the boots or shirts they had removed for sleep, he coaxed Sirius to his feet and led him off towards the path.

Sirius followed in silence, his eyes never moving from the back of Remus' head, watching the play of the dappled sunlight as it kissed the silver honey locks in front of him.

Harry turned his head as the quiet sound of their approach. He opened his mouth to ask if they were alright, but closed it again at the look on the men's faces. They weren't. That was blatently obvious, but Harry could tell without being told that they would be by the time they returned. What had Sirius called it jokingly earlier? Stress relief. He smiled and nodded to them in silent greeting. Remus whispered, "We won't be too long, Harry", as they passed, lightly ruffling his hair as he did so. Harry nodded and returned to his watch.

Sirius didn't know how long they had walked. It didn't seem a long time and yet it felt as though they had been walking together in reverent silence for an eternity before Remus stopped and turned to face him with a gentle smile, eyes that poured forth love and understanding, hand raised and back at his temple.

"I couldn't sleep, love. I didn't want..." Sirius spoke in the barest of murmurs.

"Shh, darling," Remus placed his fingertips to Sirius' mouth with a whisper and a slight shake of his head. "It's okay." He removed the fingers and replaced them with his lips in a soft, barely-there kiss, closing his eyes for the short time that their lips were in contact. Then, he stepped back the merest distance and placed one of his hands on each of Sirius' bare shoulders.

He ran them lightly down the front of his mate's bare chest, his nails gently teasing over the skin, catching the nipples and making Sirius gasp, but not pausing there as they traced endless patterns in a soft, sensual spidersweb of slow arousal. When Remus reached the low waistband of Sirius' jeans he made no attempt to go lower. He simply ran his hands around the black denim barrier, and back up his mate's sides, continuing the webweaving up Sirius' ribs, around to his shoulderblades and down again, following the line of his spine. This time, when he reached fabric, he placed both hands, splayed, across the small of the broad back and drew his lover to him.

He ran soft kisses along a jawline and up towards the ear where he licked his tongue lightly around its edge as Sirius bent his head and burrowed his face into his hair, lips seeking and finding the junction of Remus' neck and shoulder as his arms tightened their hold around him. He gave the faintest of shaky moans into Remus' neck and murmured into his hair. "I love you, my beautiful angel."

In unspoken agreement, each removed his own jeans, then Remus guided them both to the ground where he lay back, gazing up at Sirius who was leaning over him, supporting his weight on one elbow and forearm while his other hand began his own patterning on Remus' chest, eyes watching his hand's weaving and dancing for a while until he turned his attention fully onto his lover's face to meet an open declaration of love, trust, empathy and compassion.

He bent his dark head and kissed at the hollow of Remus' throat as his fingers dipped lower, tickling Remus' navel. He heard Remus' breath catch slightly and raised his head to watch the beloved face, now close-eyed again. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he was biting lightly at his bottom lip, his eyelashes fluttering minutely against his face. Sirius' hand moved lower, fingers playing through Remus' pubic hair until they brushed, almost accidentally, against the hard, satin shaft of his cock. Remus drew in a sudden, quiet gasp and his lips parted slightly, the tip of his tongue running slowly along them, which made Sirius draw in his own breath. He bent in to kiss Remus' mouth gently, drawing his tongue into his own mouth for a moment and gently nipping at the tip. Then he slowly moved down his mate's body.

Sirius positioned himself between Remus' legs, gently parting his thighs. He kissed the length of his mate's upper legs from knee right up the inner thigh to where it joined his body, first left then right. He worked slowly, eyes open so he could watch as well as feel the slight tremors through the muscles as his lips, tongue and teeth worked tenderly. When he reached the burn scar of the brand mark, he closed his eyes, placed his mouth firmly over it and sucked strongly, biting down harder as he did so, temporarily eradicating one of the reminders of their separation and torment with a brand of his own, a brand of his love and fidelity.

Remus arched and growled softly, his fingers tangling in Sirius' hair, nails gently scratching the scalp as his mate continued his journey upwards. He felt as though he was floating, cushioned on a cloud of incense, made up of their conjoined scents surrounded by the arousal that was rising in both men, along with all of the aromas from the forest around them. He parted his legs further to allow Sirius deeper access to his body.

Sirius licked and caressed Remus' tightening balls, taking first one than the other into his mouth, tasting the slightly salt skin and running his tongue in figure eight fashion around them. He ran an index finger around the base of Remus' penis, feeling it twitch under his tender attention. Lightly, he moved his fingernail up the underside of the shaft before taking it in his fist and starting a slow but firm pumping motion, and when he felt Remus start to arch again, he placed his other hand on his lover's hip to sill him, stroking soothingly.

Still pumping the shaft with his hands, Sirius moved up to run his tongue lightly around the head, making small, teasing, lapping motions with the tip. Remus' moan was louder now, although still almost reverently quiet. Sirius removed the hand that was holding his lover's hip and trailed the fingers down, slowly, past Remus' groin, around his balls and down the perineum towards the tight, puckered ring of muscle. He stroked gently around it, occasionally pushing at the centre for a brief moment, but then moving back, not entering, enjoying the slight convulstions in Remus' body as he tried to chase the teasing finger, to draw it into him.

Remus slowly disentangled one hand from Sirius' hair to take hold of his wrist and moved it up to his mouth, closing his lips around the fingertips which had been the cause of his gentle torment, and Sirius whimpered slightly at the sight of his fingers disappearing into the hot, wet depth, of the feel of Remus' mouth suckling, his tongue laving and dancing, his hand stroking the back of Sirius' own, tenderly manipulating the tendons as his thumb pressed into Sirius' palm. Then Remus drew the fingers back from his mouth, still holding onto his hand as he placed Sirius' fingers back to continue their tender assault, lifting slightly into their caress with his body as his fingers pressed the tips of Sirius' own in a gentle instruction.

Sirius eased first one, then two fingers slowly into the encompassing heat, drowning in the sound of Remus' hissed intake of breath as the slender body arched strongly and welcomed the invasion. He gently twisted and scissored his fingers, encouraging the undulating response of his lover. Finally removing his fingers and calming the slightly distressed whimper from Remus by returning his hand to his mate's lips, he knelt between Remus' thighs, then ran his free arm around Remus' back, damp from the grass beneath them.

Using Sirius' strong arm as a brace, Remus lifted himself up from the ground and, kneeling astride his lover's thighs so as not to lose the fingers still preparing his hungry body, he pressed himself as closely as he could into the broad chest.

Perfectly attuned to any changes in Remus' breathing, Sirius knew without words when his mate was ready. He slowly and gently removed his fingers, placing them on Remus' waist. Then Remus slid down, reaching behind with one hand to guide Sirius into him, completely and fully in one thrust, with just the merest flash of welcoming pain in his beautiful eyes and the slightest grimace to his smiling lips. Sirius tightened his grip on Remus' waist and raised his head to meet those lips in a deep kiss, groaning into his lover's mouth as Remus' body quickly adjusted and he began to move, slowly and sinuously up and down.

Pressing as closely as he could to Sirius' broad torso, Remus whimpered at the friction caused to his trapped cock with his movements. He moved back slightly and, taking one of his mate's hands from around his waist, wrapped it around his penis. "Please, love..."

Sirius strengthened the grip and stroked him firmly, thumb circling and pressing into the head of his lover's cock, smearing drops of precome, moving his hand in time with Remus' motion around his own length. Oh, but he was hot, and wet, and fluid, and hard and so, so **alive**. Sirius bit into Remus' shoulder, hard enough to hurt, but only drawing a growled shudder from his mate as he increased in speed around him and wrapped his hands around the ebony tresses, pulling Sirius' head back and meeting the lips in a bruising, all invading, soul melting kiss.

Remus' tongue invaded Sirius' mouth, tasting and licking every crease, every fold from palate to tonsils. The indescribable tingle of preorgasm was gathering in strength, drawing him, beckoning to him, and he wanted to give in to it, but he wanted...oh, he wanted...

"Sirius...."

"Right with you sweetheart. Let go, angel. Just let go."

Even through his own ecstasy, Sirius relished every shudder, every growl, every cry that his mate made as he came, drawing them into his psyche, willing his earlier horror to final flight. And when Remus next said his name - **screamed** his name to the sky, the shadows vanished, as Sirius and his beautiful, wonderful mate knew they would.

~~~~~~~

The others were all awake when Remus and Sirius made their way back to the camp site. They turned to watch as the two men made their way towards the tree by which they had been sleeping. Sirius made a brief sweep of the faces, fully expecting a few smirks and comments which he felt he would now be able to handle with his usual aplomb. There were none. All he saw was concern and relief mirrored over and over again. He was more touched by this than he would have thought possible.

He noticed..."Percy? Percy Weasley? Shit, is that **you**? Fuck, man. I thought you were dead!"

Percy took the exclamation in the spirit with which it was intended and gave a wry smile. "I think I was for a while." He walked swiftly over and shook their hands. "It's good to see you both. How are you?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged smiles. "Healing," answered Remus, giving Sirius' waist a squeeze. Then he turned to Percy. "What news?"

At Percy's suggestion they all sat. Remus sat cross-legged in front of Sirius who wrapped his legs and arms around his mate with a swift kiss to the shoulder.

"Right," Percy began. "First off, you won't be able to use magic inside the house. Not unless you want to announce your arrival. The wards will pick up signatures like solar flares."

"Just wands?" asked Sirius.

"The lot," stated Percy, ignoring the swift curse that fell from Sirius' lips. "Wand, non-wand, transformation..." He looked at Sirius and then at Ron and Ginny, shaking his head slightly in awe. They'd given a demonstration of their alter egos for him shortly before.

"Okay," said Remus. "That's a bit of a bugger, but we can get round that. What about the werewolves?"

"Women are on the first floor, just the one dormitory. There's nineteen of them." He looked up at Remus. "They're in a fairly bad way, Remus. You'll have to assess them. I know next to nothing..."

Remus nodded. "Will any of them be able to walk?" He already knew the answer, but asked anyway. Percy just shook his head mutely. Remus nodded again, a cold shadow passing across his eyes. Sirius' arms tightened slightly around him.

Neville spoke. "Well, we'll do what we can, but we'll probably be better getting them out under Mobilicorpus." He looked at Remus, almost apologetically. "It's gentler than PT and a damn site kinder than Stupifying them." Remus nodded again.

"Whatever you think best Neville." He turned back to Percy. "The children?"

"I haven't been able to get in there - I only saw the women for the first time a few days ago. They're in the basement. It was bigger for a nursery. There's six of them."

"Only six?" Ron interrupted without realising it.

"They're pretty frail, apparently. They..." Percy looked down at the ground.

"They've been kept in there since the day they were born. No individual attention, no affection. No decent food. No mothers who are able to take care of them. No fucking sunlight or fresh air on their skin." Sirius guessed spitting the words out. He felt Remus stiffen slightly in his arms. ~Forgive me, love.~ Percy looked up, pained.

"I'm sorry."

"No. It's not you. It's just..." Sirius made an inarticulate noise of frustration and his gaze moved to the direction of the manor house, his jaw working, biting his tongue to prevent further outburst.

"Percy," Harry's voice was gentle, and he was looking at Sirius and Remus as he spoke. Remus closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. ~Bless you, Harry. I couldn't ask~. "Have you seen Tamar?" Remus' eyes opened again for Percy's reaction. To his surprise, the faintest smile appeared on his lips, and his flint-hard eyes softened just a little.

"Yes," he said, softly, hearing her tortured word and seeing the tear on her nose again in his mind. "Yes, I've seen her."

"And...?" Sirius was surprised that his and Remus' voices weren't the only ones to ask.

Percy sighed and the smile disappeared as he saw the damaged body and mind again. "She...she's hurt."

"They're **all** hurt, Percy." Remus swallowed his irrational flare of anger. Fuck - didn't they know what multiple, sustained rape did to even **regular** women? He sighed when he felt Sirius' lips in his hair and his whispered "Shhh."

"Has she been mated, Percy? And,...babies?"

"She's been raped, Remus." Sirius and Remus both tensed. They knew of course, but to have it confirmed by somebody who'd seen. "But no, no children. She...she hasn't...I mean..." Oh, this was girls' talk! Percy Weasley, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin - war heroes, assassins, killers, lovers. Ginny rolled her eyes and exchanged a look of mutual disdain with Hermione.

"Oh for the sake of the Goddess, Percy! You mean she hasn't started her periods yet. Just say it, why can't you?" The two were decidedly amused when every male face flushed and a couple cleared their throats, but through it all, Remus suddenly looked up, sharply.

"What? Are you sure? Percy...are you **absolutely** certain about this?"

"Well, yes, but..." Percy was baffled. Remus turned his head to meet Sirius' gaze, resolution in the gold eyes, bafflement mixed with dawning realization in the blue.

"She's not mated. If she hasn't..." and he waved a hand towards Ginny, "...then she's not mated." He looked back at Percy with wild hope. The hope flickered just a little when he saw there was something else in Percy's eyes. "What is it? Tell me?"

"She's been...burned. She...one of them...burned her." Percy knew, and Remus knew that Percy knew, that he was going to ask.

"Burned her how?" His voice was quiet, dangerously so. They had no idea who else was in that manor house, but somehow...

"Silver." Remus shut his eyes to ask the next question.

"A. Silver. Hand?" He didn't open his eyes again, so he didn't see Percy's nod. He did hear the gasp from the others, and he most definitely heard Sirius' response. From the opening snarl through the quiet words - more a promise than a threat.

"He. Is. Mine."


	9. 08

(approx 18 months earlier)

The straight-backed chair was hard under Remus' body, but he hardly noticed it, only occasionally shifting unconsciously to ease the numbing in his backside. He was dimly aware that he was sitting - had been now for about two hours - surrounded by some of the few people he could trust any more. Or, he thought bitterly, some of the few people who still trusted **him**. All of his attention except for these peripherals was focused on the events at the front of the room.

Remus hadn't wanted to be here. Everything within him had cowered away from being exposed to public view. In fact the only things that could have got him out of the house were Sirius, Harry and Tamar, or the full moon of course. He'd asked Sirius to help him build a cage in their basement for this latter purpose. Sirius had refused point blank. Remus had let the matter drop in the face of his mate's fury and disbelief.

Not many people knew about the events of six months ago, how he had so nearly turned murderer. He knew that he had both Albus and Sirius to thank for that. Had they known, there was no way he could have shown his face. Hells, they'd have probably locked him up and thrown away the key.

His burning eyes closed and he gave an involuntary shudder at the scenes running unbidden through his aching head. Screams, smells, confusion, blood, the itchy tingle of curse residue, smoke everywhere. His mind desperately trying to filter out the madness to hear the one voice he craved. In a teenage fit of outward-seeming irony one morning after the full moon, he had dubbed Sirius his still, small voice of calm. Regardless of Sirius' public persona, it was the infinite comfort and reassurance in his tone as Remus battled back from his monthly hell to which he was referring. Sirius' voice had always had the ability to bring him back from nightmares. He concentrated on the sound of his mate's voice now, using it as an anchor. The tone was cold, irritated, angry. But it was Sirius. And as long as he could hear him, he could do this. He could face anything as long as he could hear that voice.

But he hadn't heard it on the battlefield. He'd panicked. He'd forgotten that, if Sirius was dead he'd know it - he'd just **know** it with every fibre of his being. And when he'd seen the blood stained black hair in front of him...He shuddered again and gave the slightest of whimpers at the recollection and felt the gentle yet firm pressure of a hand on his arm.

Slowly he turned his head and opened his eyes. Poppy Pomfrey patted him in a brusque, almost businesslike manner, smiling at him encouragingly. He whispered the answer to her expression's question. "I'm alright, Poppy. Thank you." He gave her a fairly unconvincing smile, wondering fondly if Sirius had put her on werewolf watch. She held his gaze for a moment before nodding and patting his arm one last time.

He returned his attention to the front of the room where Sirius was holding forth. It was the first time they'd left the house in half a year, except for the day when they'd Apparated to Arabella's to be greeted with the news that Tamar was missing. This was the furthest he'd been from his mate's side since he'd woken up in a medical tent with four wands pointed directly at him and Sirius snarling his opinion of **that** to four stony faces. Ah, so eloquent, his lover. In the initial haze of charm-induced befuddlement, he had reached up to calm Sirius. He'd turned his head and had to squint slightly to try to bring his mate's face into focus. All he'd been able to make out until his cotton wool wrapped brain could function with any degree of normality was a fuzzy display of midnight silk.

Black hair.

Black... His breath had caught in his throat and he'd covered his face with his hands and rolled his body into a tight foetal position, as though he could somehow hide from the awful knowledge that crashed in on him, smashing down the walls of protection and disbelief in his mind before his fevered brain could even construct them, threatening to crush the breath from his shaking body with its dreadful weight.

"No. Oh, gods no. Please...no."

Sirius had whipped away from his berating at the sound of Remus' anguished wail and had instantly gathered his lover into his arms, gently lowering the still-bloodstained hands down from the beloved face which was now twisted in horror and self-disgust as they gazed upon the evidence of his rampage, the crimson guilt stained irrevocably and undeniably on his own flesh. Oh, and the pain...the absolute **agony** in those beautiful golden eyes. Sirius wished with all of his heart that he could somehow reach into the molten depths and physically remove it from his lover's soul.

"Come on, sweetheart. Come on. Don't give up now. It's alright. Just hold me my angel. That's right. I'm here. Stay with me. Oh, love, it's alright." Sirius had stroked and rocked and cradled and kissed, all the time talking. Remus had clung to him, shaking and sobbing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shhh, love. Shhh. It's okay. Sweetheart, it's over. We're through. No more. I'm taking you home. We're going home, Remus. Look at me." One of the four 'guards' had tried to interrupt, pointing out that Remus would have to stay under arrest until such time as a hearing could be convened. Sirius' growled warning had silenced him.

"If the Ministry wants us, it knows where it can find us. Now. I. Am. Taking. Him. Home."

He'd felt a strong hand under his chin, lifting his face. He'd fought against it, too ashamed, too unworthy to meet the love and sympathy which he knew he would find there. "Look at me, Remus."

Sirius lifted the chin and gazed earnestly into the wild eyes in front of him. Wild, but not gone, not lost. Wild with grief and guilt, not with madness. Sirius smiled down at him, stroking back his hair with gentle fingers. "That's better my angel. You know I love to see your beautiful face. Now, listen...Listen, Remus. Don't look away. He's going to be okay love."

Remus had shaken his head. "No..."

"Yes. Yes, love. He's been hurt...badly hurt. But he'll live. He'll be fine. I swear."

Remus hadn't believed him. Sirius had had to half-carry him into the makeshift cubicle where a team of mediwizards were putting Martin MacKenzie back together. At Sirius' quiet request, they had parted to allow Remus to inspect him, a few of them asking quietly after Remus himself. The questions were well-meant, but Remus had ignored them. He was beyond response although somewhere buried away in a tiny corner, untouched by the horror, was recognition and gratitude for their almost sympathy for his plight. It was not lost on Sirius that the first place he checked was along the left shoulderblade, the area where both he and Tamar shared an identical scar. Once he had satisfied himself that Martin was mercifully unturned, he had closed his eyes and swallowed heavily before drawing aside the light cover and examining his abdomen. Sirius had caught him as he had fainted, and the next thing he'd known was when he'd awoken in his own bed. He wished he'd never risen from it. The news he'd received a couple of days later that Martin Mackenzie was indeed fine and refusing to press charges, stating that his only complaint was with the Ministry for having worked Remus into complete psychological breakdown which any damned food could see coming if they had half a mind to look, did nothing to soothe him.

Even the very real horror of Tamar's disappearance couldn't rouse Remus from his state of semi-catatonia for a while. Oh, he grieved. Sirius knew that. Sirius had held him countless times while he had sobbed out his heartbreak and helplessness.

In despair and desperation, Sirius had frantically tried to cajole Remus out of his pit of abject apathy and despondency. He'd planned outings, arranged special treats, even cooked dishes that didn't involve toast somewhere in their makeup. He'd joined forces with a worried Harry who was only too happy to try to help - to try **anything**. Sirius had felt shitty about not telling Harry all of the details, more so because he'd known that Harry had been fully aware they were holding out on him. But Harry had been more concerned about the two men than about any unintentioned slight. Both he and Sirius would have done anything to see Remus smile again. Harry would have moved mountains or even sold his Firebolt for the sound of his laughter. Sirius would have sold his soul, and considered it a fair price.

Remus had known all of this, and he'd wished he could give them what they wanted - what they **needed** from him. But it was just too hard for him. He was at the bottom of a deep, dark pit with steep tear and blood-slicked clay walls into which his hands could find no lasting purchase. For the first time in his life, Remus had truly hated what he was, and no platitudes from his beloved mate could reassure him. He'd suggested Sirius leave him, find his freedom, find somebody worthy of him.

It had been the only time that Sirius had truly and completely lost his temper with his lover. Even the day of Lily and James' deaths, he hadn't felt such overwhelming anger and fear as he did at that moment, and he gazed in stunned incredulity at Remus' defeated form. All of his pent up rage spilled from his mouth, the near murderous anger he felt at the Ministry for reducing Remus to this state being directed in full force towards his shattered lover like an erupting volcano, the lava taking vocal form.

"No! Remus...what the FUCK..."

"I'm no good to you, Sirius. No good **for** you. They're right about me. They've always been right. I'm a beast...a monster..."

"Stop it! Stop it right **now**! Just Shut. The. Fuck. Up! You are **not** a fucking damn animal. You're **not**. There is no 'alpha' Remus. Not with us. That's just a fucking joke. You're a leader. A natural leader and a damned good one, too. But you're tired - we **both** are. You're hurt and you're ill but...Fuck it to all hells, Remus. There is no 'alpha', no 'beta', no omega bitch. You are **not** a fucking beast, Remus. You're a **man**. A. Man. You hear me? And I don't stay with you out of fucking duty to my alpha. I'm here - and I'm **staying** here - because you're you - Remus Lupin - the one man, the one **person** I've been in love with since before I could put a name to how I felt. And I always thought you felt the same. Don't you? Don't you love me? Or do you just allow me to stay because, as a 'mated alpha' you have to? Am I just that to you, Remus? A job? A duty? A fucking **chore**? Because if so, you might as well kill me now. I will **never** leave you, but I'd rather die than be with you for those reasons."

All through his tirade, Sirius had not allowed Remus a chance to respond. Neither had he allowed him to turn away, pulling him back physically when Remus had flinched and shrank from his words. Sirius had said them to shock, and it worked. He was trembling with rage, but when Remus raised his face to him and looked at him out of pain-filled tearful eyes, with love and apology and still deep, deep distress so clearly written amid the dulled gold, it had taken all of Sirius' own self-control to walk away from his mate. It would have been so easy to take him into his arms, to hold him and protect him. To take back his words and blame them on fatigue and worry. But that wouldn't help Remus. He **had** to come to Sirius, to take just the first step. Because Sirius knew that he'd only been partly right. Remus wasn't just a man, and they both knew it. Neither of them had ever thought of Remus and the wolf as being separate entities and because of that 'alpha' applied just as much as 'wolf' and indeed 'man' in Remus' physical and psychological makeup.

It had taken two hours before Sirius had heard his lover's tentative knock on the bedroom door, and even that had twisted his heart. ~Oh love, when did we ever have to beg for each other through closed doors?~

That night, they'd made love for the first time in two months instead of Remus just curling up in the protective circle of Sirius' arms. Remus smiled a little at the memory. Oh, yes. His erudite, **patient** lover.

A noise from the front of the room brought Remus back to the here and now.

"Mr. Black," Fudge was talking. How in all hells did he manage to make Minister for Magic? Such a **little** man, hiding himself behind his badges of office and his own innate pomposity, as though the dazzling gold and silver proclamations of rank on his chest were enough to hide the lack of substance, of understanding, of compassion, of **humanity** beneath.

"Mr. Black, we cannot instigate a search for a single individual at this time. The war..."

"The war is **over** Fudge. Finished. Done. Voldemort..." He paused, rolling his eyes with a huff of barely concealed irritation at the almost universal flinching at the name. "...Is dead. His followers are wondering round with their heads up their arses not knowing what the fuck to do or who to follow any more. You and your..." Sirius scanned the rest of the assembly with no attempt at concealing his contempt, "...committee here have nothing further to do except instruct dozy bastards like me to go in and clean up for you. Bring in the Death Eaters whose families can't buy their way out of the fucking mire. Well we've done our share of your damn housework with never a word of thanks. Because to thank us, you'd have to admit to some pretty pathetic and spectacular cockups, wouldn't you?"

Certain members of the assembled Ministry committee shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Sirius was gratified to note that some were unable to meet his piercing, accusing glare. He growled quietly and shot a glance back towards the rear of the room to check on Remus. He noticed the brief nod and smile of reassurance from his mate, and returned it, but the expression on Poppy's face gave him a truer picture of Remus' nervous state. He turned back to Fudge, his expression darkening.

"Can you see, Fudge? Can you see what doing our bit for the Light has done to us? Can you look at him, then look me in the eye and tell me it's all been worth it? Do you have to calm anybody's nightmares? Do you?"

"Mr. Black, I fail to see what..."

"Exactly! That's your problem. You 'fail to see'. You've always failed to see what's right in front of your fucking face. While you sit there playing god with your little battleground maps, it's people like me, people like **him** who take the flak and have to deal with the damn fallout. You owe us, Fudge, and all we want is that you. Find. Our. Sister. Then, we'll go quietly away and you can forget you ever even knew our names. As for us, we'd be only too delighted to be able to be a family instead of the Ministry's chief disposible commodity and forget your sorry little arse ever existed."

"Mr. Black!" Cornelius Fudge's rejoinder held more than a hint of an affronted tone, as he puffed his chest out self-importantly. Sirius pondered stalking up to him and watching him deflate again like a pricked balloon. "Your loyalty and sacrifice are in no doubt, but we cannot in law..."

"Law!" Sirius snarled through his teeth. "And who **writes** the fucking laws, Fudge? Tell me that. Who here has the authority to overturn the benighted thrice-fucked, gods damned legislation when it reeks to the deepest pits of hell with injustice?" ~Fuck it, this is one fucking balloon that deserves to burst. Sanctimonious little bastard!~ He approached the separate dais behind which Cornelius Fudge was sitting and bent his head towards the Minister, palms spread on the heavy oak table which divided them.

Fudge paled and shrank back as Sirius leaned across the table so that their faces were mere centimetres apart. He quailed almost visibly under the intensity of the icy glare, blazing with a fire of rage. "Or," hissed Sirius, quietly, "does the Minister for Magic have no power to act unless Lucius Malfoy tugs at his strings and tickles his balls for him? Because we **all** know what the ever so perfect Mr. Malfoy thinks of the Light."

Ah, now he was insulted, was he? Fucking tough. "Mr. Malfoy has no authority here." Sirius gave a noise of incredulous contempt.

"I repeat, Mr. Black. Mr. Malfoy's...wishes...carry no weight in this chamber, but the Laws with respect to werewolf rights and responsibilities **have** to be upheld, regardless..." Fudge held up his hand in what he considered an authoritative manner. Sirius allowed him that illusion for the time being and he continued. "...regardless of any injustice which you or your... **he**..." Sirius bristled, and made **damn** sure that Fudge saw him do it "...may feel to have suffered, both with respect to your own treatment and the disappearence of..." He checked the sheet of parchment in front of him. Fucking dimwitted ignorant bastard hadn't even the modicum of decency required to remember her name. "...Tamara." Oh, this was just **too** fucking much!

"Werewolf rights? What fucking werewolf rights? Those two words, Fudge, are mutually exclusive in this world and you fucking know it. Just about the only right my mate...yes, Fudge, you can say it...My mate, my lover, my life partner...seems to have is to draw breath. And even that's fucking well begrudged him. And it's **Tamar** , Fudge - **Tamar** , not Tamara. And not one of the kidnapped werewolves..."

"Missing, Mr. Black. Not kidnapped. We have no evidence to support your theory..."

"Theory...?" Sirius threw himself away from the table with his hands, which then flew up to his temples as he turned his back on Fudge and gave out a growl of sheer frustration. Oh, all the gods but somebody needed to **shake** the fucking bullshit from this man. He brought his hands down and fisted them at his side.

"Some of these women would have been mated, you dickhead. No mated werewolf would run off and leave her mate. That's fucking **basic** DADA knowledge." Sirius tried to talk calmly, but his temper was growing with every minute that Cornelius Fudge demonstrated his pig headed refusal to concede the facts.

At the back of the room, Remus was watching with a growing unease born out of concern for his lover's safety. If Sirius attacked Fudge, which seemed more and more likely with every passing minute that the obtuse little upstart insisted on hiding behind his desk and his laws, not only would they never manage to convince the Ministry, but Sirius would have another jail term added to his name. And they'd probably throw him in as well for good measure. Well, why not? After all, they'd done it before. Killing a werewolf was simply pest control so imprisoning one would be a walk in the park for them. Killing the Minister for Magic however, no matter how much of a cockroach the little bastard was, was ~unfortunately~ still considered murder.

"Sirius...A cuisle." His voice was quiet and a little croaky with nerves and lack of use, but the Gaelic words cut through to his lover's brain like the sweetest caress to a fevered brow. Remus deliberately used the endearment. It was one he'd only used twice before. Neither of them being Irish, it seemed silly to adopt it for permanent usage. Remus had used it once on Sirius' 17th birthday, and again on the day of their reunion after so long apart. It seemed appropriate now. They'd been...not estranged exactly...but not together as one soul, as they should be. Part of Remus had been in a dream state, sleeping off the hurt and injury. That part of him had finally awoken on seeing his mate walk a tightrope between concern and fury, as though something in Sirius was calling out to him for his presence. And Remus was ready now to answer the call.

He winced inwardly when every eye in the chamber turned to him, still unwilling to subject himself to public scrutiny, but focusing purely on the eyes of his mate he pulled himself to his feet and walked the length of the room, allowing the love, concern and pride in those aquamarine depths to hold him up and pull him in unerringly. He was shaking. Oh, gods he **really** didn't want to do this. Sirius could see it and made to move towards him but was stalled by the slightest widening of Remus' eyes. He would not give these people the satisfaction of seeing his frailty. He'd made Sirius do something which he swore would never happen again. He'd left Sirius on his own to fight on his behalf. Well, not now. Not ever. He forced down the nerves which threatened to overwhelm him, and Sirius saw life and determination flash in the golden eyes for the first time in six months.

He reached Sirius' side and brushed a light kiss across his cheek, feeling the brief brush through his hair which his lover bestowed on him and the murmured "You're so beautiful. So brave, angel. I love you" in his ear, giving him the added strength he needed for this. He also faintly heard mutterings from the line of committee members - "...what...expect...fucks werewolves...probably...bewitched." He knew Sirius had heard it too. His body stiffened and he looked into Remus' eyes as though seeking permission, or approval. Remus nodded slightly. Sirius turned to the assembly and spoke with a deadly calm.

"This," and he drew Remus closer to him, "is my mate, my lover. You heard me say it to **him** already." He indicated Fudge. "I don't 'fuck werewolves'. I never have **fucked** **werewolves**. This is the **man** to whom I have been married since my seventeenth birthday, in a ceremony of our own devising, and with vows from our own hearts. This is the man whom I am sworn to love, protect and honour with everything that I have and everything that I am. This is the man who became my friend when we were children, and is still my friend to this day. This man, my friend, my lover, my mate, my **husband** also happens to be a werewolf. When I make love...when I **fuck**...it is with **who** he is, not **what** he is. But if you truly want to know what he is, then take it from me. He is wise, patient, honest, loyal, understanding, protective, strong yet vulnerable. He hurts just the same as I do, he cries just the same. He loves just the same. If you don't believe me, ask any one of those people..." He pointed towards the back of the room, "...and any one of them will tell you the same about him. We love him, because we know him. You refuse to know him, or others like him, therefore you fear him. I feel sorry for you."

He looked into Remus' face. ~Ah, love. I've got you back~ Remus ran a steady hand over his cheek and murmured "Thank you, my love". Then, he turned to the committee. When he spoke, his voice was low, his tone quiet. Yet, everybody in the room heard him.

"Sirius is my mate, as I am his. He has told you of our marriage. Insomuch as it matters we later made other vows, public vows, before those who matter to us. Some of those people are no longer here. Most of them died defending the Light so that people like you could sit here today and quote your petty rules at us. They were far better people than any of you could ever strive to be.

We swore that we would be together always, until death and beyond. We grew together, we live together and we will die together. If you choose to be clinical, I have no choice in the matter. By my very nature, I am bound to him. I have been since the first time he took me and claimed me, in fact probably even before that. However, he is not my obligation. He is, was and always will be my choice; the only one I shall ever desire or love. Sirius has no such obligation to me. He could leave me at any time of his choosing, and I have more than given him cause to do so." He looked back into Sirius' eyes and Sirius, who had been about to protest, was speared and gagged by the utter wonder, gratitude and adoration with which Remus' eyes pierced and tied him. ~Can't they see it? Can't they see the absolute beauty and purity of his soul?~

Remus turned back to the assembly, his eyes softened, but hardening by the second.

"He chooses not to leave.

And really, that is what all of this boils down to. Choice. **Your** choice. You have the ability, if you so choose, to help us. To find our sister. You know that, if we were talking about non-lycanthropic women, you would have chosen to instigate a search long ago. In fact you would have probably approached people like myself and Sirius to do it for you. And we would have probably chosen to help.

However, they are werewolves. Dark Creatures, like...myself." He paused for a moment, fully aware that he was standing directly in a shaft of sunlight, knowing that his hair would gleam almost as golden as his eyes. His pale skin would take on an almost pre-raphaelite sheen, which would be highlighted and emphasized by his forest green robes. He knew that he would stand out as day to Sirius' night as he stood beside his dark mate. He heard his lover's quiet laughter as Sirius quickly realised what he was doing and felt more contentment than he would have expected at the comfortable knowledge that, once again, they were working in perfect tandom with each other.

"Still," he continued, "it is an easy choice to make. Forget them. Let them **all** 'disappear'. Not your problem, is it? They're just **beasts**. Not as if they're your wives and sisters, after all. Or your daughters. Of course it **should** be different if any of them were of your kin. But I don't think it would be. You would still leave them to their fate. And if their mates show up, causing potential problems for you? Well - you have your sainted **laws** to back you up. My, my, aren't you fortunate? Because of man-made legislation written in a man's hand on man-made pieces of parchment, you are protected from all of the **non** men. You can ignore the fear, grief and madness that you cause in your ignorance and intransigence.

Well, we can't. And we won't. We'll find our sister, with or without your help. We'll find all of them. Yet again, we'll do your job for you one last time. I am sorry that we have wasted your time in coming here. But I am more sorry that we have wasted our own. After all of this time, we really should have known better."

With an ironic half bow, Remus turned away from the row of impassive faces before him. He reached out a rock-steady hand, and Sirius took it with a squeeze. They walked without haste to the back of the room, shoulder to shoulder. At their approach, their own delegation of support and friendship stood and made its way with them to the heavy oak doors. Sirius reached to open the door, but Albus got there first and held it open for them as they passed through into the cooler anti-chamber beyond. His meaning was not lost on Remus and Sirius. This was a public statement of Albus' deep respect for the two men whom he had known since their childhood, and they were grateful to their old headmaster and greatest advocate.

Albus turned before leaving and locked his clear blue gaze with the flustered one of the Minister for Magic.

"A problem, Cornelius? Are you unable to handle petitioners who conclude their own hard-won audience? A pity. You have just alienated at least two of the Ministry's greatest assets. You do not see their true strengths, any of you, even when confronted with it. Another pity. And, I hope, not **too** grave an error on your part. Because if any of you were ever called upon to act in ways that these two have had to, to lay your lives on the line for others, I fear that not one of you would have the courage or commitment to the Light that Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black show so intrinsically every day of their lives. I, and many others, feel blessed in knowing them. Good day, Cornelius."

And with the briefest inclination of his head, Albus Dumbledore left.

~~~~~~~

(Present day)

They passed the evening in companionable near-silence. None of them had been particularly bothered about eating, but when Remus Summoned up a light meal of bread, cheese and fruit, they had all accepted gratefully, and had congregated around the still-burning fire, content with the comforting proximity of the others while maintaining their own thoughts.

They'd have to go in via the front door. There was no other way. Not without using magic, which was something they all wanted to avoid for as long as they possibly could. Neither Ron, Hermione nor Ginny had managed to detect so much as a chink in the wards surrounding the house. Ginny had managed to find what looked like an abandoned badger's sett, but it was far too small for any of the others, except for the two eagles, to get down, and it would take the birds far too long to negotiate the passages on foot.

And then, even without the earthfall which blocked the way after about a hundred yards, Ginny knew there was no way Remus and Sirius would allow her to go in alone, pregnant or no.

So it had been arranged that Percy and Sirius, using the vixen as a distraction, would deal with the Death Eater on watch duty. Ron, in his eagle form, would give a signal to the others from his vantage point in one of the trees which surrounded the estate grounds. Then Percy would dismantle the wards for as long as it took them to get to the door, by which time he, Sirius and Ginny would have the door opened.

Once inside and away from the physical proximity wards, Percy, Sirius and Remus would secure the ground floor and guard the way to the basement, where the old kitchens had been converted into the nursery, while Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Neville saw to the children and the twins set about placing the explosives and setting the time delays.

The children would be got out and portkeyed away to a waiting Hagrid by Neville and Ginny, after Percy had again removed the wards, who would then return as quickly as possible to assist with the women. By the time they returned, Sirius, Remus and Percy fully intended to have dispatched the remaining Death Eaters, thus negating the need to refrain from using magic. Then Neville could take whatever measures necessary in getting the women safely away with as little further distress as possible.

Then the twins' firework display would start. Simple.

Now, all they needed was for the Death Eaters to comply, mused Sirius grimly, twisting a piece of twig between his fingers, imagining Peter's scrawny little neck there instead. Then again, **making** them comply could be fun too.

He looked over to where Remus was talking quiety with Neville, and smiled to himself a little sadly. Neville Longbottom. There was another in whom doting parents should have been able to take pride. The Marauders had known the Longbottoms well. Hells, they'd played enough pranks on the good-natured Frank in the time. And they'd been among the first to offer their congratulations when he'd announced his engagement to Helen Mervyn. Too many good people had been lost, one way or the other. Too many had suffered. And Peter had been responsible for causing too much pain to those whom Sirius loved.

He would pay. And he would pay dearly and painfully for every ounce of pain he had caused to James and Lily, to Harry, to Tamar, to himself. And chiefly, to Remus.

Sirius was getting fidgety with inactivity. He rose to his feet and walked over to where Remus and his former pupil were engaged in conversation. He saw Remus place a hand on Neville's shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"You'll be fine, Neville. They can be carried, probably. The oldest of them will be no more than two. I doubt they'll struggle. Just be careful, and try not to startle them. Remember, go gently, using quiet tones. Their hearing is very acute. No sudden noises or movements if you can help it. Any problems, call me."

"But you said no sudden noises."

"I **didn't** say shout me. Just a bit louder than your normal speaking voice. Harry knows. I'll hear you. I'll make sure I stay as near to the basement door as possible, and you make sure all the other doors are kept open."

"I'm not used to dealing with children. Any children."

"And I'm an expert because I have Sirius? I never raised Harry, Neville. And Arabella did the parenting of Tamar when she was little. I was just an overgrown playmate. Speaking of which..." and he turned towards his mate with a loving/amused grin, which turned into a low laugh when he saw the feigned hurt pout on Sirius' lips.

Neville was amazed. "You knew it was him by the sound of his footsteps? Wow, I didn't hear him, and I could **see** him. I didn't know your hearing was **that** good."

Remus laughed louder. "We also have very sensitive noses. So long as there's nothing in the air to impede or confuse it, I can scent him from quite an impressive distance. Of course, it **could** also be that he insists on using the same shampoo that he's used since we were thirteen."

Neville grinned. He looked at Remus. "Thank, Boss," he said, quietly. "I promise the children will be okay. I won't hurt them."

"I know you won't Neville. And thank **you**." With a last pat on his shoulder, Remus stood smoothly and turned to Sirius.

"What, love?"

"I want to run. Now. Me, you. Just for the hell of it." The blue eyes flashed fire which scorched Remus' spine. He grinned.

"We haven't done that for a while."

"I know. I want to do it now." Sirius looked over towards his godson. Remus followed his gaze.

"With Harry?"

Sirius' voice softened and his eyes misted over slightly with old memories. "If he'll come."

"Okay. You get Harry and give me a head start." Sirius' head whipped round and his eyes narrowed with a gleam.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no. I know you. You'll just hide up a damn tree. Then we'll be running around like headless chickens while you laugh your hot little arse off at us from somewhere."

" **Me?** " The wide-eyed golden gaze was far too innocent for genuine shock at the thought, and a years' old suspicion was finally put to rest in Sirius' mind. Remus continued. "You really think that **I** would do such a dirty, mean, low, underhand, despicable thing as **cheat**?"

"Yes, **you**." The blue eyes narrowed further in counterpoint, even as they flashed amusement. "You always fucking did it to me and James and don't you damn well deny it." They never mentioned Peter any more in their recollections.

Remus laughed. "When did you figure it out?"

Sirius' mouth twisted in a way that made Remus want to claim it. "Honestly?" Remus nodded. "About ten seconds ago, when you finally admitted it. All those fucking times. You evil, wicked little git. I'm so going to make you pay for that."

Remus turned and fled, still laughing. He heard Sirius call, "H. Transform now. We're going on a wolf hunt."

A rush of adrenaline coursed through the werewolf's strong, lithe body, and even as he ran he revelled in the feeling of sheer exuberance, loving the feeling of being almost a teenager again. He could hear Padfoot's joyous bark as the chase began in earnest.

He knew they'd soon catch up. He could outrun anybody he knew in human form, but he couldn't long evade the two determined four-footed hunters. Padfoot's tracking abilities were not quite as good as Moony's, but they'd be more than good enough to find him.

Without pausing, he stripped off his shirt and threw it at the base of a tree as he passed. Then he lunged forwards, into a diving forward roll, his long legs launching him as far as he could through the air before meeting the ground with his tucked shoulder and bringing himself back to his feet, gracefully and fluidly. It was a fairly feeble attempt to try and break the line of scent, he realised. But it could buy him an extra couple of seconds.

Padfoot barked again, and Harry bellowed. Remus' face broke into a delighted grin at the flood of memories the combined sounds evoked, too quick for conscious individual analysis. But his subconscious processed them all and proclaimed them 'good' to his waking mind. Soul-warming. Spirit-lifting.

He stopped running as he cleared the trees. The manor house loomed before him. He hadn't realised he'd come this far. He was better at this game than he thought, he mused as he allowed the laughter to die back leaving him, not brooding, but a little more pensive perhaps as he studied the building, slightly out of breath, his face flushed and the sweat of his exertion gleaming slightly on his chest, throat and forehead.

He shook his head sadly. "Oh, Peter," he murmured. "Did you never realise, never stop to think that it would have to come to this?" His heart slumped momentarily, mourning the loss of a friend.

He felt the quiet approach of Padfoot and the stag and as they flanked him, both staring at the object of their mission, he put a hand down to caress the large dog's silky ears and placed the other hand about the stag's neck. They stood for a while in silent contemplation, then Remus turned and led them back into the trees.

Sirius tranformed back, putting an arm around his mate's shoulders. "It's not Peter, love. Not really. Peter - **our** Peter died the day they put that Mark on him." Remus nodded. Harry transformed too, taking his cue from his godfather.

"I should've let you kill him in the Shack. I shouldn't have given him the chance to get back to Voldemort. So many people would still be alive if..."

"No, Harry." Remus shook his head. "You did what you thought was right. And James would have done the same. It's not your fault. And he **will** pay for what he's done. Sirius will..."

"I'd've thought you'd want to do it yourself." Harry was confused at Remus immediate acceptance of Sirius' earlier claiming of Peter as his own quarry. "You were ready in the Shack."

"I was angry. And still a little bemused by it all. If it had come down to it, I don't think I could have killed Peter. He...loved me once."

"He loved **all** of us," growled Sirius.

"No, love." Remus spoke gently. This was the one thing he'd never told Sirius in all their years together. "I mean he was...in love with me." He paused for a moment, awaiting a reaction from either man, and was mildly surprised when none came, except for them slowing their steady pace until they stopped altogether. Remus turned and looked at them. They were both waiting for him to continue. He expected to see the shock, but the depth of it in Sirius' eyes startled him.

"He never said anything. And I didn't either. Oh, Siri. I'm sorry I never told you, but it wasn't my secret to tell. If he'd wanted us to know, he would have said something."

"He... **loved** you?" Remus nodded sadly.

"I think he knew that it could never come to anything. Oh, he knew I loved him, like I loved James. But I scented it on him. A couple of times. At first, I thought he meant somebody else, but there was one time I caught it and looked up. And we were the only ones there. He was...staring at me like...oh, I don't know. But I knew then. He loved me."

"No, Remus. He didn't. Not enough. He wouldn't have done...Love, he made me think you were the traitor. He put that...that **Mark** on you."

Remus shrugged. "I don't know why he did what he did. I can't explain it. I can only tell you that, before it all happened, well..." He shrugged again and lapsed into silence.

"What about in the Shack, Remus?" Harry found his voice.

"I couldn't scent it. There was too much fear and anger. If it was there it was hidden. It was a bit mad in there that night. I was worried about Sirius, about the three of you. Then, Severus..."

Sirius strode towards him and took him into his arms. Remus sighed with relief and contentment. "I **couldn't** tell you, love. And what good would it have served? We were together. We were always going to be together. Nothing could have changed that. There was no threat. I thought it might have affected how you felt for him if I said anything."

Sirius nodded. "It's okay, angel. But it alters nothing. Too much has happened. I **will** kill him."

"I know, love. He has to die. He **deserves** to die. I've known that from the minute I saw you in the Shack that night and you told us what had happened. When I saw what he'd done to you.., and to all the others, the poor Muggles who died without even having a chance or the knowledge of how to defend themselves, and..." He shook his head. "It's like you said. **Our** Peter died the minute he went to Voldemort."

They stood in silence for a short while, Harry joining in their embrace. Then they broke apart and resumed their walk back to the others, Sirius and Harry remaining human for the return journey. Harry had only one thought.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Make it painful."

"I intend to, H."

~~~~~~~

Albus Dumbledore paced his office floor. Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape exchanged disquieted glances behind his back. It was unusual to say the least to see the headmaster give in to his unease like this. Unusual enough for the feeling to spread and seep into their own minds. They really all needed sleep, but had congregated here instead, finding no refuge in slumber, each finding their way from their own diverse parts of the huge castle, completely unprompted, as if drawn by kindred disquiet.

~Misery loves company~ thought Minerva wryly as she sipped from a glass of fine malt, resisting the urge to knock it back in one. Well, maybe misery wasn't the right word, but it would do as well as any here. She had accepted Albus' decision to call in Sirius and Remus without question, but she had her doubts. Of course she did. They all did. Even the headmaster himself. She jumped when Severus' dark velvet voice broke the silence.

"Headmaster, if I may suggest...we may have some time to wait yet. I really do think that if you could try to relax..."

"Yes, Severus. Yes, you are right, of course. But I just wish...I **wish** I knew that I had done the right thing in calling in Remus and Sirius. I can't help wondering if perhaps somebody else...but then, they **had** to know. And knowing...well, they would not have been content to sit round and let another deal with such a matter."

"Quite so," said Minerva with a decisive nod as she gave in to her instinct and threw the rest of her drink back in one final gulp. Then she rose from her chair, reaching out towards Severus' own empty glass. "Another, Severus?"

He pondered the empty glass in his hands for a moment, before handing it to her with a nod. "Please."

She turned to move towards the decanter, pausing to look into Albus' worried countenance. She patted him absently on the shoulder with a sigh.

"It will be well, Albus."

He raised his eyes to her own, with just a flicker of his accustomed amusement glinting through the heavy doubt. "Have you acquired the gift of prophecy, Minerva? Perhaps I should warn Sybil that her position is in jeopardy. But then, she should know that already, I presume."

Minerva snorted and gave the headmaster a withering, milk-curdling look which very few others had ever had the nerve to give him. He chuckled slowly, and then sighed. "You are probably right, Minerva. I hope so."

They returned to a semi gloomy silence for a few more minutes. Minerva broke it. "We are all worried about them, Albus. Especially poor Remus."

"I know, Minerva. I know. I cannot help worrying that he is untried since...Ah, but again, he is among the people who know and love him best, and who trust him. More, he trusts **them** "

"He needs this, headmaster. He needs to be able to prove to himself that he is worthy of trust."

"Indeed, Severus. However, I wish I had told at least some of the others. Warned them, somehow."

"Sirius will keep everybody as safe as he can. Telling them would only have made them over cautious, and with the best of intentions, he would have detected it immediately. And that..."

"Would have been counter-productive. Yes, Minerva. I feel so too. He has seen fit to tell only the Weasley twins."

"The twins are ready for whatever may need to be done," said Severus, his face darkening slightly with his quietly spoken words. Albus and Minerva turned to focus fully on the Potions Master. He looked between the two of them, his dark eyes showing determination, a hint of what looked like regret, and something else - a flash of curiosity and expectation. " **All** is prepared," he added, in emphasis. His injured leg ached slightly and he rubbed at it absently.

"There are too many variables." Albus shook his head and looked down at his desk. Severus had to agree with him. He was as uneasy with uncertainty as Albus himself. He was comfortable with the predictability and certainty which came with potion making, so long as one was precise. A + B = C. Nice, neat, reassuring.

Severus had never been a gambling man. He'd joined Voldemort, not from any twisted admiration of the man's ambition, but because it had been expected of him, and Severus had feared the wrath of his father more than he had Voldemort. On his father's death, he had instantly returned to Hogwarts to offer his services to Dumbledore and the Order. Again, it had had nothing to do with who was more likely to prevail. Severus was naturally of the Light, and as soon as his darkest influence was removed by death, the Light was where he gravitated, back to the man who had been more of a father to him than his own ever had.

It was true that he had become embittered over the years. He hated to see those with what he considered infinitely better opportunities than he waste them in idle pursuits. Voldemort could have been defeated years before if his threat had only been taken more seriously to heart. Severus had known that he would come back. Dumbledore had known it too, but instead of preparing the students for the coming storm, they'd had to act like all was fine and dandy. Then, of course - and he admitted to himself, to his chagrin, there was Harry Potter.

His dislike of Harry had been personal. It had taken him years to admit it, but whenever he looked at the boy he saw not the likeness to his father, which was what most people commented on. He saw instead Lily's clear emerald eyes.

Severus had been...fond of Lily Evans during their schooldays, and she had been one of the few who had anything decent to say to the shy boy who, aware of his awkwardness and, let's face it, less than drop dead gorgeous looks, had always tended to keep himself to the shadows. He'd hoped that her friendship might mean something more, and he'd been summoning up the courage to ask her out, when James Potter had swept her off her feet. He'd hated James from that day onward, and soon imagined that he hated Lily too, for slighting him. It was from this hatred that the situation arose where Sirius had almost been responsible for his death in Remus' jaws. And of all people to save him, it just **had** to be Golden Boy Potter himself.

He knew he'd been wrong about Harry. Severus was a proud man, and not one who found it easy to confide in others, or to apologise. In being genuinely civil to Sirius and Remus, and in accepting Neville as a sort of assistant (and, he had to admit, Neville was a damn talented wizard once he wasn't **expected** to fail all the time), Severus was going some way, in the only way he knew how, to make reparations.

He was surprised at the concern he was feeling for Remus and Sirius and, he thought wryly, they would be no less so if they knew.

Minerva interrupted his thoughts by handing him his refilled glass. And when Minerva filled a whisky glass, she **filled** a whisky glass. He glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Minerva?"

"Och, just drink the damn thing, man. We've got a fair wait yet. They won't need us when they get back, anyway. We'll just be in the way, and you know how Poppy gets when anybody interferes with her work."

"Yes." And on that note, the three resumed their silent vigil, waiting with more misgivings than they felt able to admit, even to themselves. And the clock moved agonising slowly as the waning moon journeyed serenely through the sky.

~~~~~~~

The dog.

The damned fucking dog.

Why was that all he could hear? All he could concentrate on? Even though he'd heard the bark hours ago? Why was the sound of its bark still reverberating around the darkest caverns in his brain, including the parts that were connected to his heart? And his stomach?

Ask not for whom the dog barks...

Oh, he'd known the bark. He'd known the dog. He'd recognised it straight away, even though by the time he'd got to his window, the animal's physical form had long melted back into the cover of the trees. Even though he'd never even seen it, he knew. Oh, yes. Peter knew all right.

The Grim. Padfoot. Thanatos. Sirius.

What did the name matter? It all boiled down to the same thing. Peter Pettigrew was going to die.

He'd spent the last few days talking himself out of the burning fear which the young bitch's one word had ignited. After all, how in hells **would** Remus and Sirius know? Sirius had been virtually housemaiding Remus for over two years, ever since they had mysteriously and suddenly withdrawn from the conflict. Everyone knew that, even if they couldn't find out why.

But the dog had changed everything again. And seeing the dark form of the masked Death Eater moving away from the house had confirmed it. So they **would** know. At least, they would **now**.

Peter had been betrayed. The gods were fond of their little twists and turns, weren't they. Peter had checked to see who was missing.

Percy Weasley.

Another former master had let him down. Another traitor to add to the list.

And how many lists would be headed by **his** name?

And the fear had returned. He could feel it now. No longer burning, but suffocating. Growing, twisting around and within him, choking the life and the fight out of him like an insidious, sentient Devil's Snare, snaking its lethal tendrils into his brain, into his ears and eyes, around his legs preventing flight, anchoring him inexorably to this hulking mausoleum. His mausoleum. Grander perhaps than Lily and James' grave, but no less final.

No escape, Peter. Not this time. This is one sinking ship that's holding onto all of its little ratties. The plague stops here.

But Peter hadn't been Wormtail in years. He couldn't. Not since that night. The night when the Dark Lord had given him the silver hand.

The lord giveth and the lord taketh away.

Oh, he may have been the Dark Lord's most trusted servant - of the ones that weren't still in Azkaban of course - but that didn't mean he was **truly** trusted. The Master hadn't trusted Peter not to assume animagus form and desert under cover of night. Or perhaps he was just removing the very last link, the last slim sinew which still bound Peter to his previous life.

The final proclamation. No friends before Voldemort. No family before Voldemort. No life without Voldemort. No choice **except** Voldemort. No trust from Voldemort. No love from Voldemort. No escape from Voldemort.

Something was moving, fluttering on his window ledge. He crossed to it. A moth. No, a butterfly. Peter considered for a second the rarity of seeing a butterfly at night. His gaze wandered through the window where the still large but waning moon gazed serenely down, bathing both him and the trapped insect in a pearly, glowing light.

He looked back at the butterfly which still struggled, seeking escape. Face impassive, he crushed it under his silver fist.

Peter sat on his bed. He didn't know how long he sat. But he sat. He didn't know why he sat. But he sat. Until he couldn't bear to sit any longer. He got back to his feet and walked towards the window again. He looked at the moon, now slightly further across the sky from where it was before. His eyes scanned the dark line of trees, occasionally showing silver, moon-kissed branches. His gaze followed down the branches towards the ground.

And stopped dead at a spot just in front of the line of trees.

His eyes widened.

His breath seemed to leave his body in one long 'whooossshhhh' and didn't return.

His heart pounded painfully within his chest, once it had remembered to restart itself.

He was looking at a sight which he hadn't looked upon for eighteen years, and which he thought never to look upon again.

A sight which should have been impossible, because he himself had destroyed that possibility, eighteen years earlier. He'd destroyed it when he'd destroyed one of his best friends. When in truth, he'd pretty much destroyed **all** of his best friends.

But they were there. He was sure they couldn't see him, but they were there, looking towards the house.

Remus.

Padfoot.

Prongs.

And as Peter lurched away from the window, all he could think of was the broken body of the crushed butterfly, lying twisted in the silver moonlight.

~~~~~~~

They stood just under cover of the trees, gazing at the front of the shadowed, looming form of the manor house in silence. Remus' eyes glinted in the moonlight, narrowing slightly as he unconsciously focused his attention on trying to sense Tamar somehow. But the same blood call which had drawn him to Neil Rogan years before was hidden, trapped behind the wards which surrounded the house. It was **almost** enough for now that he knew she was alive, that she was there. It was the closest he'd been to her in two years.

"We're coming, sweet," he whispered. "Just hold on a little longer. We're here."

He felt Sirius' hand brush against his own and he entwined their fingers, squeezing slightly. Then they stepped back a bit and he turned to the group.

"Right." He spoke only slightly louder than he had a moment before, but they all heard him. "Percy, Ginny. You ready?" They nodded, Ginny leaving the circle of Harry's arms and instantly transforming into the vixen. He turned to his mate. "Siri?"

Sirius kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I'm ready." Remus nodded and fought back the wave of irrational panic that flared as Sirius left his side to join Percy and Ginny, then flared again as they slipped silently away. He watched where they'd disappeared for a second, part of him wanting to go with them, part of him just wanting to drag Sirius back to him, then turned to Ron, who gave Hermione a hug and then transformed and disappeared into the tree.

"And now," muttered Remus, "we wait."

They waited in silence, gazing blindly out towards the house, unable to see the gatehouse because of the trees. Remus started a slow pacing backwards and forwards, like a caged wolf, never taking his eyes away from the direction in which Sirius had departed, hardly seeming to blink. Fred and George exchanged a glance. Harry, Neville and Hermione stood and watched him, Harry and Hermione feeling the same way at the sudden absence of their own mates.

After what seemed an age, but was probably no more than ten minutes, they heard the eagle cry from above, and then Ron was back among them. "It's done," he said, slightly shakily. He'd never seen Percy kill before. He'd witnessed it at all the others' hands and had experienced the necessity himself once or twice before. But he'd always thought of Percy as the gentle one. The sensitive one. His sharp eagle eyes had managed to pick out the utterly cold expression on his brother's face as he had neatly and quickly garotted the Death Eater on guard duty. It had almost been enough to make the bird fall from the tree.

"Okay." Remus paused for a moment to look at Ron, turning his face towards him. "You alright?" He asked gently.

"Yeah. Fine. Really. It was just, seeing Percy..."

"Tell me about it," quipped Fred. "Just seeing him in those damn robes nearly made me shit my pants."

George nodded. "I could smell him from ten feet off," he said with mock solemnity. Then he grinned and ruffled Ron's hair. "Come on, baby bro'. Let's go see what other surprises Perce's got lined up for us."

Ron nodded and grinned back. Then they made their way quietly - silently in Remus' case, they all noticed - across to the gatehouse. They were met on the way by the vixen, and followed her to where Sirius and Percy were waiting.

"No problems?" Remus looked between his mate and Percy.

"No. Went out like a light. Not a sound." Sirius was biting his thumbnail as he kept his gaze on the house. His other arm moved unerringly around Remus' waist. Remus slapped the hand from his mouth with a muttered "I hate you biting your nails", and then replaced the hand with his own mouth for a brief kiss.

"Martini boys strike again," said George, his voice light with amusement.

"What?" Sirius turned towards the smirking twins.

"You know - Martini. Muggle drink. Very popular in your era." Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius stuck two fingers up at them. George and Fred looked at each other and started singing the words to the old TV advert from which they had assigned the devoted duo their nicknames; "Any time, any place, anywhere...," then ducked as Sirius swiped at Fred and Remus at George.

"Why did you wait here for us?" Remus turned back to Sirius. "You were supposed to be at the door by now."

"It's safer to stick together. Percy agreed. We waited. Anyway, I missed you." Sirius grinned as he ran a finger down Remus' cheek.

Percy had moved away in the meantime so that he could concentrate on lowering the wards long enough for them to reach the door. The wards around the door and inside the house were of a different type, only detecting use of magic by unrecognised signatures, or one of the Unforgivables. But this ward was complicated and he needed solitude to be able to concentrate fully. Eventually he felt them start to waver, before they melted away completely. He made his way back to the others.

"Okay, they're down. Sirius. Ginny." The two nodded and they set off for the door, Ginny back in human form. Remus shook his head. He **still** wasn't happy about just walking in through the front door. It was just **too** fucking easy.

They followed closely behind, keeping as near as possible to the hedges, Remus bringing up the rear, still dealing with a good bit more unease than he was happy with. He put it down to being out of action for a while. He wasn't jumpy, he knew he wasn't about to fly off the handle. Then he realised what it was that was making him uneasy.

Wolfsbane. Not much, barely an echo on the breeze. But it was there. In a perverse way it satisfied him. It was telling him that he was close, and if he still couldn't feel Tamar's presence, this would suffice. He inhaled it deeply in an act of defiance. They were obviously growing it somewhere in the grounds. But it wasn't too near. Maybe it was a good thing they were going in the front way after all.

It wasn't far to the door, and they got there just as Percy managed to open it. He glanced back at Sirius and nodded. They slipped inside, Ginny with them. After a few seconds of silence, the rest followed.

The entrance hall wasn't huge, but it was impressive. It should be easy for the three men to guard. They could pretty much see anything or anyone that moved from more or less anywhere. Percy indicated the door which led down to the basement, and the others disappeared down it, grateful for the dim Muggle electric lighting which lit their way down the staircase.

Percy then moved over towards another door, indicated himself and then the door, mouthing the word 'Office'. Remus took his place at the basement door and nodded. Percy silently turned the handle and went in. Sirius looked over at Remus, questioningly. Remus mouthed 'Records' to him. They'd need those to try and locate any family which the women and children may have scattered around.

All was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. It was the kind of quiet that almost seemed too heavy for the eardrums. Then, the office door opened and Percy walked back out. He'd put his hood back up over his head. Sirius frowned and was about to comment when he saw Remus' face. Instinctively, sensing danger, he hit the ground and rolled in the direction of his mate, just in time to hear the softly spoken phrase.

"Crucio."

The curse missed him, barely. He registered a flash of rapid movement as Remus leapt over him, grabbing the hand which held the wand by the wrist, twisting and breaking the bones in one sudden motion.

"Remus? Percy?"

Remus shook his head. "It's not Percy, Siri. Get in the office and check. Is he alive?" He addressed this to the hooded figure, who nodded, grunting with pain from the broken wrist. "You'd better hope he is."

He held the dark form against the wall as Sirius checked the office. He came out shortly afterwards, holding up a shaking Percy. "He'll be okay. Just a bit shaken. He was stupified. I figured, since this git's just used an Unforgivable, any alarms that were going to go off would have done, so I brought him round."

Remus checked Percy's face. He was pale but seemed to be recovering his equilibrium with each passing second. He turned back to the Death Eater under his grasp. He gave him a grim smile.

"Bit like old times this, isn't it? I remember us having a little conversation once. I'm sure you remember it too, although you may have forced it from your mind. You always did underestimate me. You see, I told you that, if you ever harmed any of my friends again, you would regret it. Well, you've just attacked my mate. You missed him, but I'm prepared to overlook that. Let's assume you didn't. That you hurt him. And then, of course, there's Percy. He's a friend. And you **did** hurt him." He laughed without humour. "Looks like Siri's not the only one who'll be calling in a debt tonight." He raised his free hand and pulled back the hood.

Sirius didn't recognise the face. "Remus? Who..."

It wasn't the face Remus had expected to see either, but the scent was unmistakable. "Polyjuice? And you're a woman? Oh, my sweet gods, this is priceless."

"She...she's one of the werewolves." Percy's words wiped the smile clean from Remus' face.

"Are you sure?" At Percy's confirming nod he turned back to the form in front of him, his face twisted into a mask of cold fury. "What have you done with her? Where is she? Where. **Is**. She.? Tell me, now. I can make this quick for you, or extremely slow. It's up to you. Now tell me. Where is she, Lucius?"

Sirius and Percy exchanged staggered glances. ~But - he's **dead** isn't he?~ ~Apparently not, but he will be.~

"Malfoy," Sirius purred. "How **wonderful** to see you again."


End file.
